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I can relate to Marguerite Duras even though I'm not French, nor have I been consumed by love for an East Asian man. I can life inside Alice Munro's s...more

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Had I known that coffee could taste so good, I would have gotten drunk on it every day.

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Literature is my sandbox. In it I play, build my forts and castles, spend glorious time. It is the world outside that box that gives me trouble. I hav...more

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I long ago abandoned myself to a blind lust for the written word. Literature is my sandbox. In it I play, build my forts and castles, spend glorious t...more

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In every evocation of a childhood scene, my stepfather's face is the least detailed, the most out of focus; when I think of him my memory's eyes have ...more

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The receding perspective of my past smothers my present. Remembering is the malignancy that feasts on my now.

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Memory chooses to preserve what desire cannot hope to sustain.

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I long ago abandoned myself to a blind lust for the written word. Literature is my sandbox. In it I play, build my forts and castles, spend glorious t...more

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Sex, like art, can unsettle a soul, can grind a heart in a mortar. Sex, like literature, can sneak the other within one's wall, even if for only a mom...more

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I told her I was not sure I could bear living with memories, she said, Look up at the stars, look, they are not there, what you see is the memory of w...more