Great part of the notes collected for the new novel comes from far away, crumpled notebooks by recalling past lunch breaks to write in bars when I was commuting. Ideas of 2003, annus horribilis for myself: three lost loved ones in a single year. well-written lyrics, sliding away from the pain or good at hiding it. Physical lean periods, large portions of private youth fly away in the bedroom, in the halls of resuscitation.
words still fresh as the blood coming out of a new cut. Words with no apparent disturbance, free words from the dead.
The writing becomes the tree that allows the shaman to reach the sky.
trans-down. And get
to tell the tale.
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