Quite Like Old Times,' The Room Says.

I Watched Her Die Many Times. In My Way, Not In Hers. In Sunlight, In Shadow, By Moonlight, By Candlelight. In The Long Afternoons When The House Was Empty. Only The Sun Was There To Keep Us Company. We Shut Him Out. And Why Not? Very Soon She Was As Eager For What's Called Loving As I Was - More Lost And Drowned Afterwards.

Even The One Moment That You Thought Was Your Eternity Fades Out And Is Forgotten And Dies.

The Feeling Of Sunday Is The Same Everywhere, Heavy, Melancholy, Standing Still.

I Hadn't Bargained For This. I Didn't Think It Would Be Like This - Shabby Clothes, Worn-out Shoes, Circles Under Your Eyes, Your Hair Getting Straight And Lanky, The Way People Look At You. ... I Didn't Think It Would Be Like This

I Like Shape Very Much. A Novel Has To Have Shape, And Life Doesn't Have Any.