"The secret to it all is just to enjoy what you're doing. This is not working at the coal face, this is not sweeping behind a restaurant. It's work, but it's not work. It gives me a different type of energy. I'm grateful for that."

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So many humans. So many colours. They keep triggering inside me. They harass my memory. I see them tall in their heaps, all mounted on top of each other. There is air like plastic, a horizon like setting glue. There are skies manufactured by people, punctured and leaking, and there are soft, coal-coloured clouds, beating, like black hearts. And then. There is death. Making his way through all of it. On the surface: unflappable, unwavering. Below: unnerved, untied, and undone.

— Markus Zusak