You may not believe in magic but something very strange is happening at this very moment. Your head has dissolved into thin air and I can see the rhododendrons through your stomach. It's not that you are dead or anything dramatic like that, it is simply that you are fading away and I can't even remember your name.

You don't decide to paint. It's like getting hungry and going to the kitchen to eat. It's a need, not a choice.

I didn't have time to be anybody's muse; I was too busy rebelling against my parents and learning to be an artist.

We went down into the silent garden. Dawn is the time when nothing breathes, the hour of silence. Everything is transfixed, only the light moves.