It Just Happened. As Though

For 30 Years I Have Tried To Make It Understood That There Are No Criminals.

The Place Smelled Of Fairgrounds, Of Lazy Crowds, Of Nights When You Stayed Out Because You Couldn't Go To Bed, And It Smelled Like New York, Of Its Calm And Brutal Indifference.

I Have Always Tried To Write In A Simple Way, Using Down-to-earth And Not Abstract Words.

I Would Like To Carve My Novel In A Piece Of Wood.

One Of Them, For Example, Which Will Probably Haunt Me More Than Any Other Is The Problem Of Communication.