it is strange and wonderful feeling to see one’s book on the shelf of a bookstore. It is exciting to see that a few copies got sold on Amazon and oddest and most unreal of all is to do a book signing and to see that people really buy this book. They carelessly thrust money into my hand. They ask me to write a dedication. Then they take the book away and, I guess they read it. They read it in the metro, in the bus, late at night before they go to sleep. I guess they really read it. I am almost shy to think they read it when they are alone and they lend it to their sisters or friends and the book and what is in it gets diffused out into the world. I could never have imagined this sensation of my voice, my ideas drifting out there.
Enough ” I ” …..that pronoun does not make good art