With every kiss, the 15-, 21-, 28-year-old self was probably furious with me—each in his own way—for selling out.
What is imagination, really? Maybe it’s just the little brother of Miss Creativity?
In many ways, remembering is a leap of faith, just as writing is.
I promised the Devil my soul, and in return he promised me that everything I was going to experience hereafter would be turned into tales.
How to capture the world after being raised on Fellini films?
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