I do not write to seduce the world. I write to seduce you exclusively.
I write about the impression of the day. I write about people I met who’ve left their impression on me. I write about new experiences, about little details, about unimportant events that make me smile. I write about sadness and disappointment. I write to console myself. I write so that I won’t be crying inside.
And let’s see if two of us can be like Henry Miller and Anaïs Nin.