May the memory of this moment, here, the glowing impression of the two of us facing each other in this warm, bright place, drinking lovely hot tea, help save him, even a little bit.

This is what it means to be loved... when someone wants to touch you, to be tender...

Después cuando al fin lo conocí, pensé que transmitía una sensación de aislamiento, no se por qué. Aunque su forma de ser y de hablar eran dulces, me pareció que estaba solo.

The place I like best in this world is the kitchen. No matter where it is, no matter what kind, if it’s a kitchen, if it’s a place where they make food, it’s fine with me. Ideally it should be well broken in. Lots of tea towels, dry and immaculate. Where tile catching the light (ting! Ting!)

Even when I try to stir myself up, I just get irritated because I can't make anything come out. And in the middle of the night I lie here thinking about all this. If I don't get back on track somehow, I'm dead, that's the sense I get. There isn't a single strong emotion inside me.

No matter where you are, you're always a bit on your own, always an outsider.