Pandemonium

When you’re completely free, you’re also completely on your own.

There’s a place for everything and everyone, you know. That is the mistake they make above. They think that only certain people have a place. Only certain kinds of people belong. The rest is waste. But even waste must have a place. Otherwise it will clog and clot, and rot and fester.

I wonder if this is how people always get close: They heal each other’s wounds; they repair the broken skin.

A sudden stillness usually means a large predator is nearby. More animals than usual? More food.

That is what hatred is. It will feed you and at the same time turn you to rot.

our heart, at our base, we are no better than animals.

You’re only as good as your training, and your training is only as good as your thinking

But you can build a future out of anything. A scrap, a flicker. The desire to go forward, slowly, one foot at a time. You can build an airy city out of ruins.

Droplets, droplets: We are all identical drips and drops of people, hovering, waiting to be tipped, waiting for someone to show us the way, to pour us down a path.

Promise me we’ll stay together, okay?” His eyes are once again the clear blue of a perfectly transparent pool. They are eyes to swim in, to float in, forever. “You and me.”

“I promise,” I say