Sometimes it's almost scary. When everything is there, the faces, voices. As if everything was born to converge on this point: writing a new novel.
Read what they say or nothing , Annie Ernaux, smiling because this is and it is different. Say it was very hard, but it's okay, I'll do otherwise.
back into his teens, 80s, yes it is already so far 99 Luftballons, all that, the booms.
Play Back to the old house , of Smiths , say, once again, Master Moz hit, "I will not go back to the old house", thank you for writing this song.
Search 
what is hidden, the silences, the small things buried somewhere in a farmhouse in the Vosges, unimportant details and to revive as if it was magic.
Thinking so hard that some people will cry for having lost. Want to tell them how much they were loved, and now ... To say that it's not too late, I tell them like that in writing.
How do people who do not write to redeem himself?
Watch the face of endless Rupert Graves and listen to his story. Not his history as an actor, not the history of his face.
"Imagine," they say. Imagination. It is not much, imagination. The hardest thing is to listen tell what their faces, landscapes, smells.
To let it go.
Abandon the will to control his narrative. Recognize that something is out there, beyond me.
Sometimes it's almost scary.
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