We all live in a kind of continuous dream,” I told him. “When we wake, it is because something, some event, some pinprick even, disturbs the edges of what we’ve taken as reality.”
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when you see beauty in desolation it changes something inside you
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There are certain kinds of deaths that one should not be expected to relive, certain kinds of connections so deep that when they are broken you feel the snap of the link inside you
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The trees are not trees the birds are not birds and I am not me but just something that has been walking for a very long time…”
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There shall be a fire that knows your name
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; some questions will ruin you if you are denied the answer long enough
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He had not expected any of it to be beautiful, but it was beautiful
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So that he was not just a swirl of confused memory, a bruised body, a cipher, but apparently something worth saving, someone in the process of being saved
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The unexpected delicacy and delirium of that accidental touch.
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You’re already caught between wanting me and not being sure I’m all human, is that it? Made by the enemy. Must be the enemy. But can’t help yourself anyway
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