That was the strange problem with writing, you had discovered. Meaning never matched the words and words always evaded the thought.

What appears strange and complex becomes stranger and more complicated once you begin to investigate it. That's the true nature of the world.

a city is all about how you look at it

people who ran away are friends!

My dear, you are not one person. You have many people in you, and each one can ask only some kinds of questions.

for the first time I am confronted with the fact that places and people are like things: both made of memories and meaningful to us in the same way: we construct ourselves in our conversations with them.