Free The Snow Globes!

Feast For The Fisherman, The Ultimate Emo Band. Said To Be Sold With A Complimentary Prescription For Antidepressants And A Free Flatiron.

But Aren't Many Gardens Beautiful Because They Are Imperfect?...aren't The Strange, New Flowers That Arise By Mistake Or Misadventure As Pleasing As The Well-tended And Planned?

To Those Who Will See, The World Waits.

The Wind Picks Up. It Sends Leaves Scurrying For Cover Until A Softer Breeze Blows Through, Settling Them Down Again As If To Say, Shhh, There, There, It's All Right. One Leaf Still Dances In The Air. It Spins Higher And Higher, Defying Gravity And Logic, Stretching For Something Just Out Of Reach. It Shall Have To Fall, Of Course. Eventually. But For Now, I Hold My Breath, Willing It To Keep Going, Taking Comfort In Its Struggle.

I Don't Have Time To Feel Sorry For Myself. I've Got To Think.