Popular Art Is The Dream Of Society;

I Don't Want To Look At Something That Determines Me So Completely.

Today On The Way Home, It Snows. Big, Soft Caressing Flakes Fall Onto Our Skin Like Cold Moths; The Air Fills With Feathers.

When A Man Is Attacked In Print, It's Usually For Saying What He Says; When A Woman Is Attacked In Print, It's Often For Being Who She Is.

It's Only Afterwards That It Becomes Anything Like A Story At All. When You're Telling It, To Yourself Or To Someone Else.

Though As He'd Say, What Is 'belief' But A Willingness To Suspend The Negatives?