Why Write?
For the fun of it. For the art, yes, and the stacking of words. For the melody and rhythm of a sentence, echoed by another. Why not for fun? After the final page, Real Life takes you back—he always does—he’s always happy for company in his odorous cinderblock cell, until we chisel another way out. Perhaps it’s better to say I understand my everyday struggles when I see them in a story. It’s one thing to hear about redemption, another to see it played out among Dmitri, Ivan, a
