The Journey, Not The Destination Matters.

It Is Generally A Feminine Eye That First Detects The Moral Deficiencies Hidden Under The 'dear Deceit' Of Beauty.

Words Strain, Crack, And Sometime Break, Under The Burden.

All Cases Are Unique And Very Similar To Others.

It Is Obvious That We Can No More Explain A Passion To A Person Who Has Never Experienced It Than We Can Explain Light To The Blind.

My Life Is Light, Waiting For The Death Wind, Like A Feather On The Back Of My Hand.