...WHAT DID YOU DO TODAY...that counts?...that carries meaning?...that made the day worthwhile?...what will you do tomorrow?

And then ... perhaps someone will write a book about making a film about a story that is taken from this book which is taken from a real-life story that was copied from a story in a book. You know?

You are the stories you tell, whatever their basis in fact or experience. It’s who you are.

Stories are how we connect. Evolution isn’t seriously about thumbs but about how we use language – that’s what raises us above dumb animals, right? Language?

Telling stories to make himself into something that he isn’t. We all do it. We all tell stories to make ourselves look better.

At some point the body offers only disappointment.

You think those cats care? You think other animals watch each other go at it and it does something for them?”“Like cat-porn.

Cats aren’t as friendly as they appear: fur, teeth, instinct, selfishness and cunning. Essentially they’re just big rats.

So what about the cats?”“What about them?”“The cats he killed. He killed all those cats. Dumped them in the tank.”“So he didn’t like cats.”“With a slingshot.”“They were strays. Nobody missed them.”“But you don’t kill cats. That’s not normal.”Rino shrugged. “Cats are cats.

They believed the devil would rise from here,” she said. “I’m serious. They thought he would come up through the cracks in the ground, that there would be an earthquake and he would rise. Dust. Fire. The end of the world. They calculated the day and built churches to protect themselves.

A tongue in a bag. Teeth. A room drenched in blood.

A human has seven litres of blood. This they had taught him in the army. Seven litres, which, with an arterial cut will vent a fountain two or three metres, and take three to four minutes to bleed out.