Tourists went on holidays while travellers did something else. They travelled.

I paused. ...I'm not dreaming.True.Then I'm going insane.Do you want an honest answer?Yes.He shrugged. I'd only query the tense. But I'm not a professional, so, you know, seek out a second opinion.

I was pleased to see the pale shapes, floating in the water like drops of silvery oil. I loved their straightforward weirdness, the strange area they occupied between plant and animal life.

chucking him the packet. 'Sten's still lying in that sleeping-bag

Jed! I got stuck in some air pocket with more exits than..." I couldn't think of anything famous with a large number of exits "I nearly drowned!

Ava's living area is made up of three primary spaces.

He spoke in english. Not flawlessly by any means. Not like a Nazi POW camp commandant who appreciates english poetry and says things like 'you know, we are much alike, you and I I'. But good enough

I didn't get the impression that the policeman cared much about the whole thing either. After another thirty minutes of ruthless interrogation {'Can you ve'fy you eat banan' pancake?'} he let me go...

The challenge is not to act automatically. It's to find an action that is not automatic. From painting, to breathing, to talking, to fucking. To falling in love...

I remembered a few things about waking. I remembered the sense of surprise as dream life and waking life swapped primacy, and the way in which the most tangible and deeply involving dreams could...

There was nothing strange about it. Jed and i were on a covert mission. We had dinoculars, jungle, a quarry, a threat, the hidden presence of AK-47s and slanted eyes. The only missing element was a...

transparent evasion exercises.

An hour later we were walking past rows of busy beach huts and weaving between sunbathers and Frisbee games. I was surprised that people weren't taking more notice of us. Everyone looked so strange to...

You learn about me, and I learn nothing about you. That's not a foundation on which friendships are based.

The dilapidation was not a memory but a representation of a poorly remembered past.

Moshe was an Israeli with an ear-slitting laugh. He used it in the same way as a madman uses a gun, spraying it around with bewildering randomness.

That was longer than a heartbeat.

As for me...I'm fine. I have bad dreams, but I never saw Mister Duck again. I play video games. I smoke a little dope. I got my thousand-yard stare. I carry a lot of scares.I like the way that...