If We Had No Language We'd Have

The Screams Of A Hurt Woman Were Indistinguishable From Everyday Traffic.

Like Any Artist Without An Art Form, She Became Dangerous.

Isolation, You Know, Carries The Seeds Of Its Own Destruction Because As Times Change, Other Things Seep In.

To Get To A Place Where You Could Love Anything You Chose--not To Need Permission For Desire--well Now _that_ Was Freedom.

I Don't Do The Things Other People Call "play."