Over the years, it has become so much easier to do that. So much so that at this point I almost don’t mind losing words, titles, phrases, sentences, scenes and even characters. It’s becoming a habit or perhaps an act of defiance.
The reason for this blissful cruelty is the fact that as you’re getting older, the bigger picture is becoming infinitely more important. Self-love doesn’t go away, not if it was there from the start, but it acquires new angles.
Suddenly, you can do even better. You can play Abraham until the bloody end. And you can actually find a different darling. Who is more perfect and a lot less suicidal.