Notes from the margins of a drifting soul.

I may only be dirt, but even dust can float and be beautiful in the morning sun.

Man, the things that come to us in the middle of the night.

Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul…

Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars.

an instant expanded to pleroma

Little memories eddy in the endless flow of the river of time.

Joy Division – 1980

toss and turn does no good but makes worry tolerable.

Ooh, come with me – To the fields