Some writers aren't writers, they are mere escapees' and refugees' on an exile from the jungle of thoughts.

My cousins had told me dead people came back as Dracula.Draculas got thirsty at night and drank only blood, leaving themilk and juices in the refrigerator for the house owners. I thoughtDraculas were cool, they had some manners. Still I didn’t like theidea of anyone drinking blood.

I like people who can keep the conversation going no matter how random the topic gets.

Tolstoy to Gandhi to Martin Luther King to Me and You.

I looked for company and I found myself.