...life Is Nothing But Trading Smells.

I Will Start Out This Evening With An Assertion: Fantasy Is A Place Where It Rains.

In Love, As In Gluttony, Pleasure Is A Matter Of The Utmost Precision.

This Is What I Mean When I Say I Would Like To Swim Against The Stream Of Time: I Would Like To Erase The Consequences Of Certain Events And Restore An Initial Condition. But Every Moment Of My Life Brings With It An Accumulation Of New Facts, And Each Of These New Facts Bring With It Consequences; So The More I Seek To Return To The Zero Moment From Which I Set Out, The Further I Move Away From It. . . .

Traveling, You Realize That Differences Are Lost: Each City Takes To Resembling All Cities, Places Exchange Their Form, Order, Distances, A Shapeless Dust Cloud Invades The Continents.

Yet, Even Now, Ever Time (often) That I Find That I Don't Understand Something, Then Instinctively, I'm Filled With The Hope That Perhaps This Will Be My Moment Again, Perhaps Once Again I Shall Understand Nothing, I Shall Grasp That Other Knowledge, Found And Lost In An Instant.