Ocupation: Short story writer
Life: b. 1957
We're left with so little to go on. Only the present is full enough to seem complete, and even that is an optical illusion. The moment is bleeding off the page. We live on the precipice of our perceptions. At the edge of every living instant, the world shears away like a cliff of ice into the sea of what is forgotten.
Topics: Ice, Sea, Perception, Shears, Optical Illusions
