I spin worlds where we could be together. I dream you. For me, imagination and desire are very close.

Are we all living like this? Two lives, the ideal outer life and the inner imaginative life where we keep our secrets?

Fiction and poetry are doses, medicines. What they heal is the rupture reality makes on the imagination.

A book is a magic carpet that flies you off somewhere. A book is a door. You open it. You step through. Do you come back?