“That’s what great love does; it leads you. By the pinkie or by the throat, it depends how lucky you are.”
“Please don’t think of flesh and blood, or even the soul, think of the thread that all dangles from, that thread in the night.”
“I miss what I know and fear what I don’t, and that is the conundrum of my existence, I am lost just like the rest of them, only I have the choice of what company.”
“Life as I know it needs to be nurtured to survive, we need food and water, sleep and comfort, does the universe have similar needs, cosmic equivalents?”
“The thread that all dangled from, tied to nothing but the inaccessible depth we all have inside of us. Like a never-ending anchor that sinks deep into the harrowing oceans screams and tantrum, I was losing control.”
“The problem of the soul, it can only hold the scars of the past and the fresh wounds of the present, but what of the future ?”
“The mounted ash at the end of his cigarette crumples in a puff and gently dances onto the floor; the wind moves the thick steel clouds over the face of the moon. The night sky retreats, fastening the cloud ridden atmosphere to hide its shame; the night is ours.”
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