روایت میکرد تا به زندگی جان بدهد و آن جریانِ بی‌شکلِ وسیع را در قابِ چشمِ آدمیزاد بگنجاند.
نوشتن جهانش بود و معنای زندگیش؛ آن میز و نور و دقتش در کیفیت احساسات و لحظه‌ها و مسیر‌ها، موسیقیِ متن، و باز شدن دریچه‌های احساس.
زندگی از همان‌جا شروع میشد، و به همان‌جا ختم میشد.
An Opening
A widening ray of light shoots through the door as he steps in. He pauses, taking a deep breath and then keeps taking his sturdy steps forward. By his deep breath, he wants to make sure he can tackle everything successfully. John fancies himself a highly wise intelligent who has managed the challenging rigor of their life extremely well. He had found a large mansion built in an ancient architecture where he could work while he could make himself sure it would going to be a relief to her as well, to the one who has accompanied him for years, who has been his first and perhaps last comfort. Every single detail of that mansion is actually a piece of his pride and confidence at the moment. He had decided to solve the problem on his own however he used to tell her “No one but yourself can help you out of it.” He is fussing about the surroundings. He is a physician, a real physician who wants to treat her nervous depression by exercises and other prescriptions. He wished she could embrace
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