Any Woman Who Counts On Her Face

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?

When A Human Being Becomes A Set Of Data On A Website Like Facebook, He Or She Is Reduced. Everything Shrinks. Individual Character. Friendships. Language. Sensibility.

The End Is Simply The Beginning Of An Even Longer Story.

For Me, George Saunders Novel [lincoln In The Bardo] Is About A Problem Of Pain.

'a Reality Shaped Around Your Own Desires' - There Is Something Sociopathic In That Ambition.