Dinginess is death to a writer. Filth, discomfort, hunger, cold, trauma and drama, don't matter a bit.

“I wanted clothes about me because I felt I had been bone stripped. The solid kn…”

“I stretched out my hands, holding the falling sun in one hand, and the climbing…”

“When I had no books and had to learn everything I needed off by heart, and when…”

“The more I read, the more I felt connected across time to other lives and deepe…”