It Was The Hat. He

I Felt No Shame In These Activities, Because I Understood What Almost No One Else Seemed To Grasp: That There Was Only An Infinitesimal Difference, A Difference So Small That It Barely Existed Except As A Figment Of The Human Imagination, Between Working In A Tall Green Glass Building On Park Avenue And Collecting Litter In A Park. In Fact, There May Have Been No Difference At All.

I Think The One Thing That's Changed Over Time Is That I've Come To Realise, As A Fiction Writer, The Fact That I Don't Think It Will Work Out, Doesn't Mean That It Actually Won't.

I Guess In My Own Life, Privacy, Anonymity, And The Mystery Of Being Lost Are Important. I Also Feel That People Are Mysterious And Complex No Matter What They Do, And No Matter How Hard They Try To Reveal Their Own Mystery.

I Hope To Keep Writing Journalism As Long As I Write Fiction; It's Afforded Me Such Amazing Adventures And Opportunities. It Does Take A Lot Of Time, So It's Hard To Do Both At Once, But I Try To Do A Big Journalism Piece Every Couple Of Years, And I'll Hopefully Continue With That.

I Don’t Want To Fade Away, I Want To Flame Away - I Want My Death To Be An Attraction, A Spectacle, A Mystery. A Work Of Art.