Esse Quam Videri," Celia Says. "to Be,

I Didn't Know Your Identity, But I Had An Impression Of Who My Opponent Was, Being Surrounded By Things You Made.

The Circus Looks Abandoned And Empty. But You Think Perhaps You Can Smell Caramel Wafting Through The Evening Breeze, Beneath The Crisp Scent Of The Autumn Leaves. A Subtle Sweetness At The Edges Of The Cold.

It's Not A Real Name," She Says. "not One That He's Carried With Him Always. It's One He Wears Like His Hat. So He Can Take It Off If He Wants.

I Worry Hope Will Crush Me, The Way Love Has So Many Times Before. Are They So Different, Hope And Love? O & E In The Same Place, Half Of The Other In Each Word. Both Swimming In Unknowns. I’ve Been Through The Big Changes. These Ones Should Seem Easier In Comparison, I Should Be More Prepared, But They Don’t And I’m Not. Sometimes I Feel Like A Broken-wing Butterfly, Clinging To A Window Screen. Afraid To Let Go. Afraid To Stay. Wondering How Much Wing Is Enough To Fly.

The Night That Seemed Endless Hours Before Is Now Slipping Through Your Fingers, Ticking By As It Falls Into The Past And Pushes You Towards The Future.