“You know what I like thinking about? I’ve lived every friggin’ moment of my life to get to look at you leaning on your hand. To get that smile just now. To hear whatever you’re thinking, to be in the room while you thought it. It’s taken every split second of my life to get here. And here we are.”
GQ June, 2017
“Tell me, Muslim uncle, can a man make himself vanish with poetry”
“What do you mean – like vanish through black magic?” He looked at me. “Yes, that can be done. There are books for that. You want to buy one?”
“No, not vanish like that. I mean can he… can he…”
The bookseller had narrowed his eyes. The sweat beads had grown larger on his huge black forehead.
I smiled at him. “Forget I asked that. Muslim uncle.”
And then I warned myself never to talk to this old man again. He knew too much already.