Sometimes Survival Is The Worst Alternative There

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.

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

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.

The Battle Of Good And Evil Reduced To A Fat Woman Standing In Front Of A Chocolate Shop, Saying, Will I? Won’t I? In Pitiful Indecision.

I Liked Her Better For Showing A Little Spirit.