Garden Work Clears The Mind.

From A Very Young Age My Mother Persuaded Me That I Could Write For Fun, But I Had To Have A Proper Job - Very Good Advice.

The Battle Of Good And Evil Reduced To A Fat Woman Standing In Front Of A Chocolate Shop, Saying, Will I? Won’t I? In Pitiful Indecision.

Like A Domestic Cat, Purring On The Sofa By Day, But By Night, A Strutting Queen, A Natural Killer, Disdainful Of Her Other Life.

To Be Closed From Everything, And Yet To Feel, To Think...this Is The Truth Of Hell, Stripped Of Its Gaudy Medievalisms. This Loss Of Contact.

A Thing Named Is A Thing Tamed.