"I’m not home, Paris. Or at least that’s how I feel. I accepted some time ago that love is my dining table and it could be anywhere. I guess I’m mostly ridden by guilt and fear instead of love at the moment and so I feel rather homeless.""I feel like I’m not doing anything. And if writing is the only craft I know, or so I keep bragging, I know I’m not doing my craft well, if at all. Rain has been raining, single leaves have been falling, hearts have been breaking and I’ve had to focus on other matters and that drives me away from being one with myself. And that drives me crazy."(Read the full text on imaginedparis.com)

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