read
write
members
about
account

 

datedatememberrandomsearch

February 13, 2012
We are all looking, but no one knows what we're looking for. So we--lost and alone--wander the endless expanse of a world either too barren or too crowded to sympathize with our plight.

You are a single painting hung at the farthest end of an empty, white room, and I must admit that I do not understand your abstract lines. Where did you find your color? Where can I find mine?

Sleepless night are best left for the owls, for they, in all their infinite wisdom, know better than to fill the air with anything but questions.

Who?