This is a novel about blood. Something about that distant blood that has always been in the back of my mind.
Whenever I try to write about blood, I always stop at a fundamental question. What exactly is blood? What does it mean? The question is so fundamental that it feels like dark ink has been poured into my head. The blood thing?
There's no answer... Or something like that, and the idea of giving a seemingly clever answer and then having fun is always tempting. After all, everyone hates trouble. But just as I'm about to put on my Vans sneakers and head out, I remember. No, that's not right. In this way, the matter of blood will be ignored.
Purpose: Whenever I try to write about blood, I always stop at a fundamental question. What exactly is blood? What does it mean? The question is so fundamental that it feels like dark ink has been poured into my head. The blood thing?
