In A World Without Air All You

However, I Began To Submit Poems To British Magazines, And Some Were Accepted. It Was A Great Moment To See My First Poems Published. It Felt Like Entering A Tradition.

The Human Longing For Story Is So Powerful, So Primitive, That It Seems Like Something Not Learned, But Locked Into Our Genes.

Finish The Day's Writing When You Still Want To Continue.

For You Where Never My Blood Sister So No More Shall I Call You Little Sister

I Can Remember Being In My Pram: Children Stayed In Their Prams Much Longer Then Than They Do Now. A Big Bouncy Pram With Black Covers And A Hood With Metal Clips That Could Trap Your Fingers. I Was Looking Up At My Sister Who Was Sitting On The Pram Seat, With Her Back To Me.