I Carried Recipes In My Head Like

I Have A Tendency To Pick Up My Own Challenges. The More Difficult Something It Is, The More I Want To Try It.

The Past Is An Obdurate Stranger That Puts As Many Marks On Us As We Attempt To Impose On It.

I've Never Been Very Good At Leaving Things Behind. I Tried, But I Have Always Left Fragments Of Myself There Too, Like Seeds Awaiting Their Chance To Grow.

I Could Do With A Bit More Excess. From Now On I'm Going To Be Immoderate--and Volatile--i Shall Enjoy Loud Music And Lurid Poetry. I Shall Be Rampant.

Places Do Not Lose Their Identity, However Far One Travels. It Is The Heart That Begins To Erode Over Time. The Face In The Hotel Mirror Seems Blurred Some Mornings, As If By Too Many Casual Looks. By Ten The Sheets Will Be Laundered, The Carpet Swept. The Names On The Hotel Registers Change As We Pass. We Leave No Trace As We Pass On. Ghostlike, We Cast No Shadow.