This Is What Divorce Is:

The Ideal Reader Cannot Sleep When Holding The Writer He Was Meant To Be With.

It's Got Two Aspects. The Bit That Involves The Public Life I Could Not Really Tolerate And Cannot Really Tolerate. I Just Can't Get Used To The Idea Of Being Somebody Unreal In People's Minds. I Can't Live My Life Like That.

Because Immigrants Have Always Been Particularly Prone To Repetition - It's Something To Do With That Experience Of Moving From West To East Or East To West Or From Island To Island. Even When You Arrive, You're Still Going Back And Forth; Your Children Are Going Round And Round. There's No Proper Term For It - Original Sin Seems Too Harsh; Maybe Original Trauma Would Be Better.

Then You Begin To Give Up The Very Idea Of Belonging. Suddenly This Thing, This Belonging,it Seems Like Some Long, Dirty Lie ... And I Begin To Believe That Birthplaces Are Accidents, That Everything Is An Accident. But If You Believe That, Where Do You Go? What Do You Do? What Does Anything Matter?

I'm Most Honest About Writing When I'm Talking To Family Or Friends, Not To Newspapers.