Space For The Spirit To Breathe.

Yet Everything That Touches Us, Me And You, Takes Us Together Like A Violin's Bow, Which Draws One Voice Out Of Two Separate Strings.

Music: Breathing Of Statues. Perhaps: Silence Of Paintings. You Language Where All Language Ends. You Time Standing Vertically On The Motion Of Mortal Hearts.

My Blood Is Alive With Many Voices Telling Me I Am Made Of Longing.

Fame Is The Sum Of The Misunderstanding That Gathers About A New Name.

Go Into Yourself. Dig Into Yourself For A Deep Answer