How could she ever understand that there isn't any way could be disappointed since I no longer find anything worth looking forward to?

I could stay living in this city if they just installed Blaupunkts in the cabs.

Why was I holding on to something that would never be mine? But isn't that what people do?

He was simply someone who floated through our lives and didn't seem to care how flatly he perceived everyone or that he'd shared our secret failures with the world, showcasing the youthful indifference, the gleaming nihilism, glamorizing the horror of it all.

Rock 'n' roll. Deal with it.

I feel I'm moving toward as well as away from something, and anything is possible.

At Columbus Circle, a juggler wearing a trench cloak and top hat, who is usually at this location afternoons and who calls himself Stretch Man, performs in front of a small, uninterested crowd; though I smell prey, and he seems worthy of my wrath, I move on in search of a less dorky target. Though if he'd been a mime, odds are he'd already be dead.