I’ve suddenly realised what are some short pieces doing in my manuscript. They’ve been there from the very beginning, and I couldn’t understand why. I’ve only known they should be in but I couldn’t see the purpose. They are strange elements, capable of standing on their own, but I’ve sensed that was not the intended purpose, and that I shouldn’t be rushing with conclusions.
And last night I had a sudden revelation. They stood there to remind me of the clean, original idea which‚ in the meantime, had been burried under the avalanche of small, forking ideas. From all that jungle, the book now goes to the beginning and only two things remain: death and return.

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