i never learned to write; it came to me in waves. so i took it down; on napkins, receipts, the palm of my hand. then there was paper, ruled & non ruled, the margins a wall waiting to be crossed, leapt over, scrawled upon. give me a coffee shop, a sidewalk, the quiet peace of my bedroom at night, & i will tell you a story so incomprehensible that
(
Read more... )