April 2009
1 post
sometimes, except for always, i want.
March 2009
3 posts
“Sometimes when you fall, you fly.”
– Neil Gaiman
If you call out, I will always hear.
We called out, tired and strange in our own skin, lost inside the fog. It was hard to tell the difference between metaphorical and real, here. Was this low-hanging mist an outward expansion of how lost we both felt, how dark our minds really were? Or was it merely a meteorological phenomenon that happened to come just as our minds started to descend? Either way, or be it another, the fog was...