Ana Maria Sandu

I always imagined that I write because I don’t manage to communicate well enough. The ability to speak about myself, to tell about what troubles and makes me sad lacks me. And I am the first to admit it. And regarding my relations with others, this “sin” of mine weights a lot and makes things hard to control.

I met people who read my books and when they met me for real they said I am more serene than my stories. I don’t know whether I should believe them although I would like it.

I write only about my obsessions and I go the whole length with them, no matter how cruel or uncomfortable the road might seem.


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