RIC: Why do you write?

M: I write so that someone can still believe.

RIC: What is your favourite poetry?

M: My favourite poem is the one that you will write but haven’t written yet.

RIC: What is your favourite word ?

M: Tomorrow.

RIC: The smell that could bring you back to life?

M: The smell of eucalyptus leaf torn in half, the smell of your perfume, the smell of Bombay Sapphire gin.

RIC: To die for a woman or for an idea?

M: A woman for a man is nothing but an idea.

RIC: To die for the idea of ​​a woman?

M: If one must die, one must die for an actual woman rather than her idea.

RIC: Passion or death?

M: Is there a difference?

RIC: Sex or fear?

M: Sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex

RIC: The vagina or the mouth? 

M: Both, repeatedly.

RIC: One hand or two hands?

M: Two is better than one.

RIC: Swallow or spit?

M: Swallow always for unforgettable taste of bitter lemon.

RIC: Die or rot?

M: Isn’t life a continuous rotting? To live is to rot.

RIC: In memory of a Sufi patient, define life with just two words?

M: The end.