The Ruminations Are Mine, Let The World

Scars Are The Paler Pain Of Survival Received Unwillingly And Displayed In The Language Of Injury.

Prometheus, Thief Of Light, Giver Of Light, Bound By The Gods, Must Have Been A Book.

I Want Something Else. I'm Not Even Sure What To Call It Anymore Except I Know It Feels Roomy And It's Drenched In Sunlight And It's Weightless And I Know It's Not Cheap. Probably Not Even Real

My Interest Is In How Meaning Is Communicated Via Language, And I Believe The Shape, Positioning, Even The Color Of The Language Has An Effect On Meaning.

Little Solace Comes To Those Who Grieve When Thoughts Keep Drifting As Walls Keep Shifting And This Great Blue World Of Ours Seems A House Of Leaves Moments Before The Wind.