I Think Isolation Is One

Every Day, A Piece Of Music, A Short Story, Or A Poem Dies Because Its Existence Is No Longer Justified In Our Time. And Things That Were Once Considered Immortal Have Become Mortal Again, No One Knows Them Anymore. Even Though They Deserve To Survive.

As Is Said About Most Writers: On The One Hand All I Ever Did From When I Was A Child Was Read, And I Was A Loner, Which Was Furthered By My Parents And My Upbringing.

Literature That Keeps Employing New Linguistic And Formal Modes Of Expression To Draft A Panorama Of Society As A Whole While At The Same Time Exposing It, Tearing The Masks From Its Face - For Me That Would Be Deserving Of An Award.

Anna Despises Two Classes Of People: First, Those Who Own Their Own Homes And Have Cars And Families, And Second, Everybody Else. Constantly She Is On The Verge Of Exploding. With Rage. A Pool Of Pure Red. The Pool Is Filled With Speechlessness That Talks Away At Her Nonstop.

My Plays Are Made Up Of Long Monologues, Which Is Similar To Prose Working With The Language