In Order To Travel Far You Have

In Those Days It Was Either Live With Music Or Die With Noise, And We Chose Rather Desperately To Live.

That Which We Remember Is, More Often Than Not, That Which We Would Like To Have Been; Or That Which We Hope To Be. Thus Our Memory And Our Identity Are Ever At Odds; Our History Ever A Tale Told By Inattentive Idealists.

Injustice Wears Ever The Same Harsh Face Wherever It Shows Itself.

I Am Invisible, Understand, Simply Because People Refuse To See Me. Like The Bodiless Heads You See Sometimes In Circus Sideshows, It Is As Though I Have Been Surrounded By Mirrors Of Hard, Distorting Glass. When They Approach Me They See Only My Surroundings, Themselves Or Figments Of Their Imagination, Indeed, Everything And Anything Except Me.

Some People Are Your Relatives But Others Are Your Ancestors, And You Choose The Ones You Want To Have As Ancestors. You Create Yourself Out Of Those Values.