
When I moved to New York, I learned about suffering, which I was sure was an ending. It isn’t. Suffering is running away to find yourself only to lose yourself; suffering is being connected mouth to anus in a human centipede; suffering is not being able to write a book but writing one anyway because working is not what kills us, it’s what keeps us alive. Suffering is the beginning to another story. Even if that story is The Human Centipede III: Final Sequence.
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