That's Something I Think Is Growing On

Sometimes Our Connection Is Frayed, It Is In Danger, It Seems Almost Lost. Views And Streets Deny Knowledge Of Us, The Air Grows Thin. Wouldn't We Rather Have A Destiny To Submit To, Than, Something That Claims Us, Anything, Instead Of Such Flimsy Choices, Arbitrary Days?

One Drop Of Hatred In Your Soul Will Spread And Discolor Everything Like A Drop Of Black Ink In White Milk.

I Felt In Him What Women Feel In Men, Something So Tender, Swollen, Tyrannical, Absurd; I Would Never Take The Consequences Of Interfering With It.

A Story Is Not Like A Road To Follow... It's More Like A House. You Go Inside And Stay There For A While, Wandering Back And Forth And Settling Where You Like And Discovering How The Room And Corridors Relate To Each Other, How The World Outside It Altered By Being Viewed From These Windows.

The Images, The Language, Of Pornography, And Romance Are Alike; Monotonous And Mechanically Seductive, Quickly Leading To Despair.