Anyone reading my literature, reading one love story after another, would think that in the midst of these disasters I must have been warmed by a considerable amount of love. The reality is quite the opposite. Until I was twenty one I was as pure as a Virgin boy. I hope you reading at this moment never have to experience that kind of sexual repression. The subject matter of my literature is a product of my imagination
Think how easily I could imagine that next to me lay this or that woman: I caressed her and she caressed me, and in her loneliness she found things to comfort me on mine.
Realize my solitude was peopled by the company of imagined lovers. By the time I began to write, I simply dropped their images one by one onto a sheet of paper.
As a result, I feel that I begin to understand what literature is. Literature expresses the dreams of mankind, dreams that in themselves are a revolt against reality.
