As With All Other Aspects

He Thrusts His Fists Against The Posts And Still Insists He Sees The Ghosts.

So Okay - There You Are In Your Room With The Shade Down And The Door Shut And The Plug Pulled Out Of The Base Of The Telephone. You've Blown Up Your Tv And Committed Yourself To A Thousand Words A Day, Come Hell Or High Water. Now Comes The Big Question: What Are You Going To Write About? And The Equally Big Answer: Anything You Damn Well Want.

Homesickness Is Not Always A Vague, Nostalgic, Almost Beautiful Emotion, Although That Is Somehow The Way We Always Seem To Picture It In Our Mind. It Can Be A Terribly Keen Blade, Not Just A Sickness In Metaphor But In Fact As Well. It Can Change The Way One Looks At The World; The Faces One Sees In The Street Look Not Just Indifferent But Ugly... Perhaps Even Malignant. Homesickness Is A Real Sickness--the Ache Of The Uprooted Plant.

A Person's Memory Is Everything, Really. Memory Is Identity. It's You.

I Wanted To Say Goodbye To Someone, And Have Someone Say Goodbye To Me. The Goodbyes We Speak And The Goodbyes We Hear Are The Goodbyes That Tell Us We´re Still Alive.