'He told me this much... that he'd met a woman in Paris and that they'd been writing to each other. That their letters had become increasingly erotic.'
A man who can no longer talk to his wife. His brief encounter with another woman. The beginnings of a possible affair in letters. Letters which might have been turned into a novel or a detailed confession. These are the facts.
But the facts begin to shift. Fiction and reality become indistinguishable in one persons' search for truth and another's realisation of desire. What I Have written is a novel of sexual obsession a literary puzzle in which what is written is far from what it seems.