Maybe the only thing that hints at a sense of Time is rhythm; not the recurrent beats of the rhythm but the gap between two such beats$$$ the gray gap between black beats: the Tender Interval.

We hasten to alienate the very fates we intended to woo.

He was afraid of touching his own wrist. He never attempted to sleep on his left side$$$ even in those dismal hours of the night when the insomniac longs for a third side after trying the two he has.

Theoretically there is no absolute proof that one's awakening in the morning (the finding oneself again in the saddle of one's personality) is not really a quite unprecedented event$$$ a perfectly original birth.

All colors made me happy: even gray.<br>My eyes were such that literally they<br>Took photographs.

And presently I was driving through the drizzle of the dying day$$$ with the windshield wipers in full action but unable to cope with my tears.

Just because your voice reaches halfway around the world doesn't mean you are wiser than when it reached only to the end of the bar.

We've spent so much time judging what other people created that we've created very$$$ very little of our own.

Without access to true chaos$$$ we'll never have true peace. Unless everything can get worse$$$ it won't get any better.

Advertising has us chasing cars and clothes$$$ working jobs we hate so we can buy shit we don't need.