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everyone (including me) is interested in staying alive, and in order to stay alive we’re willing to do things we don’t like.
I read somewhere that the decision to emigrate comes from a need to breathe.
Yes, it’s like that. And the hope of a better life is stronger than any other feeling.
could have looked for her before, but it was only after obtaining asylum, only after I’d acquired the necessary tranquillity, that I started thinking again about her and my brother and sister. For a long time I had wiped them from my mind. Not out of spite or anything, but because before coming to terms with other people you have to come to terms with yourself. How can you give love if you don’t love your own life?
