People who walk across dark bridges, past saints, with dim, small lights. Clouds which move across gray skies past churches with towers darkened in the dusk. One who leans against granite railing gazing into the evening waters, His hands resting on old stones.

Everything you say is boring and incomprehensible, but that alone doesn't make it true.

Maybe innocence makes its way easiest through the elemental chaos of this world.

You are so vulnerably haunting. Your eeriness is terrifyingly irresistible.

I like to make use of what I know

Every word first looks around in every direction before letting itself be written down by me.

Do not waste your time looking for an obstacle - maybe there is none.