The Only Time I See The Truth

I Make Very Involved Drawings, Even Little Structures, And Try Using Design To Figure Out The Rhythm Of A Plot. If There Are Several Narrators Then A Clue Has To Pop Up In The First Line. There Have To Be Certain Grammatical Clues, Or Distinctive Names.

We Do Know That No One Gets Wise Enough To Really Understand The Heart Of Another, Though It Is The Task Of Our Life To Try.

We Are Conjured Voiceless Out Of Nothing And Must Return To An Unknowing State. What Happens In Between Is An Uncontrolled Dance, And What We Ask For In Love Is No More Than A Momentary Chance To Get The Steps Right, To Move In Harmony Until The Music Stops.

Numbers, Time, Inches, Feet. All Are Just Ploys For Cutting Nature Down To Size.

Old Love, Middle Love, The Kind Of Love That Knows Itself And Knows That Nothing Lasts, Is A Desperate Shared Wildness.