Suggestion Is A Literary Strategy.

Breathing Is A Fascinating Thing To Watch In A Woman.

You Meet A New Person, You Go With Him And Suddenly You Get A Whole New City...you Go Down New Streets, You See Houses You Never Saw Before, Pass Places You Didn't Even Know Were There. Everything Changes.

Fiction -- At Least For Me -- Requires Long, Relatively Uninterrupted Time Stretches In Which To Bring It To Fruition. I've Never Been A Two-hour-in-the-morning Writer, Who Could Put In Another Six Hours On Sunday Afternoon. For Me, A Novel Requires Weeks Of Living In A Largely Mental And Wholly Internal Landscape. Everything Else Has To Be Relegated To The Odd Hour Here, The Bit Of Time There. Sadly, However, Uninterrupted Time Blocks Are Not What Life Doles Out Today To Any Of Us With Regularity.

The Night ... It Is Filled With Bestial Watchmen, Trammeling The Extremities And The Interstices Of The Timeless City, Portents Fallen, Constellated Deities Plummeting In Ash And Smoke, Roaming The Apocryphal Cities, The Cities Of Speculation And Reconstituted Disorder, Of Insemination And Incipience, Swept Round With The Dark.

It’s A Very New, Not To Mention Vulgar, Idea That The Spectator’s Experience Should Be Identical To, Or Even Have Anything To Do With, The Artist’s.