You might think I lost all hope at that point. I did. And as a result I perked up and felt much better.
I think art comes from some sense of discomfort with the world, some sense of not quite fitting with it.
Just as music is noise that makes sense, a painting is colour that makes sense, so a story is life that makes sense.
It is pointless to say that this or that night was the worst of my life. I have so many bad nights to choose from that I've made none the champion.
Life is a peephole, a single tiny entry onto a vastness how can I not dwell on this brief, cramped view of things? This peephole is all I've got!
Life is so beautiful that death has fallen in love with it, a jealous possessive love that grabs at what it can.
