Dave couldn't remember the last time a grownup had apologized to him.

But fear doesn't need doors and windows. It works from the inside.

Dave couldn't remember the last time a grownup had apologized to him.

I glance into the faces of all these people out for a Sunday stroll, but I'm not seeing eyes and noses and mouths. I'm seeing stories. Every person has a story. All the hopes and dreams. And fears. And secrets. In every face.

Darkness is only light's absence.

I almost tell him that I'd never be able to do something like that, just take out my instrument and begin playing on a street corner. But it feels to personal. Yes, I'm shy, but why bring it to his attention? I'm too shy to talk about how shy I am.

Sooner or later,reality does occor and when it does, all the lies show up, like blood on snow.