If writers only wrote about things everybody knew, what the hell would be the point of writing?

“A life without pain: it was the very thing I had dreamed of for years, but now …”

“My world foreshortened, flattening into a credit card. Seen head on, things see…”

“Being a bird, I imagined, must be wonderful. All birds had to do was fly. no ne…”

“أُنْظر إلى المطر مدة كافية دوّن أفكار في ذهنكستشعر تدريجيا بأن جسدك يرتخي ويهز حقا…”