It Was A Long Time

Not Being Published Would Be Great. When I Say That To Other Writers They Look At Me As If I'm Totally Insane.

Time Was A Thief, He Stole Your Life Away From You And The Only Way You Could Get It Back Was To Outwit Him And Snatch It Right Back.

If They Would All Sleep All The Time She Wouldn't Mind Being Their Mother.

I Find The Past So Fascinating. Photographs Are Strange, Almost Surreal, Almost Here Yet Gone. I Slip Into Thinking What The Past Must Have Been Like And I Enjoy Creating That Ambience And Atmosphere - 1730 To Around 1870 Is The Most Interesting Period.

I Think About Death A Lot, I Really Do, Because I Can't Believe I Won't Exist. It's The Ego Isn't It? I Feel That I Should Retreat Into A Better Form Of Zen Buddhism Than This Kind Of Ego-dominated Thing. But I Don't Know, I Mean, I Want To Come Back As A Tree But I Suspect That It's Just Not Going To Happen, Is It?