"It does not matter … how the people talk—or in what labyrinthine parentheses they let their unarriving language wanter. They strongly and vividly exist, and they construct not a drama, perhaps, but a world, floating indeed in an obscure where it seems to have a solitary orbit, but to be as solidly palpable as any of the planets of the more familiar systems."
"the answer my friend/is blowing in the wind."
— bob dylan.
"The heavy smell of flower petals stroked the walls of my lungs."
"Sometimes you just have to jump out the window and grow wings on the way down."