The break At twenty-nine I burned everything I had written. Not symbolically or as a gesture meant to dramatize a turning point, but quite literally, with the cold determination of someone who believes he has finally understood the limits of his own nature. Years of fragments,…

Hello friends, I’m starting something here that feels a bit questionable – but then again, why not? During the night I was haunted by a flurry of vague dreams where old and new memories blurred together. So by morning, the only clear thing was that I wanted to write – and not…

He woke with the vivid sense that he had just spoken to her in French – and not informally, but using vous. The surprise struck a little later, as he gradually came to, realising that French wasn’t a language he could actually speak – not when awake, at any rate. He tried to…

Somewhere towards the end of town, in a small cottage surrounded by a spacious garden, lived the red-haired Anne with her mother. Her father, whom she visited from time to time in a distant town, had left the house long ago – so long ago that she could no longer remember it…