“Perhaps the moon is a frozen tear,”

Because the sunset, like survival, exists only on the verge of its own disappearing. To be gorgeous, you must first be seen, but to be seen allows you to be hunted.

“Despite my strange life … I don’t want everything to bog me down. With kindness ? I feel myself laugh. I am guilty of being me, of not dying. If you know what I mean. I am me, this is the way it is, and I pay for it, and I agree to pay for it, why not laugh? My gaiety is like an arrow shot with incomparable strength.”

“Help me, I don’t want to weep for myself. I’m not giving up.”

“I keep my tattered memories of being a refugee close to me. I cultivate that feeling of what it was to be a refugee, because a writer is supposed to go where it hurts, and because a writer needs to know what it feels like to be an other. A writer’s work is impossible if he or she cannot conjure up the lives of others, and only through such acts of memory, imagination, and empathy can we grow our capacity to feel for others.”

“Beyond myself / somewhere/ I wait for my arrival.”