It Wasn't Torpor That Kept Her -

A Twenty-one-year-old Writer Is Likely To Be Inhibited By A Lack Of Usable Experience. Childhood And Adolescence Were Something I Knew.

I Want To Live In A Place Where Strangers Rush To Help Someone In Distress.

Let His Name Be Cleared And Everyone Else Adjust Their Thinking. He Had Put In Time, Now They Must Do The Work. His Business Was Simple. Find Cecilia And Love Her, Marry Her And Live Without Shame.

It Is Photography Itself That Creates The Illusion Of Innocence. Its Ironies Of Frozen Narrative Lend To Its Subjects An Apparent Unawareness That They Will Change Or Die. It Is The Future They Are Innocent Of. Fifty Years On We Look At Them With The Godly Knowledge Of How They Turne Dout After All - Who They Married, The Date Of Their Death - With No Thought For Who Will One Day Be Holding Photographs Of Us.

If I Could Write The Perfect Novella I Would Die Happy.