One Forgets That One Is One. I

This Great Blue World Of Ours Is But A House Of Leaves, Moments Before The Wind.

Beautiful Women Are Always Drawn To Men They Think Will Keep Them Beautiful.

Losing The Possibility Of Something Is The Exact Same Thing As Losing Hope And Without Hope Nothing Can Survive.

I Believe The Structure Of 'house Of Leaves' Is Far More Difficult To Explain Than It Is To Read. And While I'd Like To Lay Claim To Some Extraordinary Act Of Originality, Truth Is I'm Only Taking Advantage Of Capabilities Inherent In Everyone.

My Hands Resemble Some Ancient Tree: The Roots That Bind Up The Earth, The Rock And The Ceaselessly Nibbling Wordms.