Should each individual snowflake be held accountable for the avalanche?

EPITAPH Now I'm not the brightest knife in the drawer, but I know a couple things about this life: poverty silence, impermanence discipline and mystery The world is not illusory, we are From crimson thread to toe tag If you are not disturbed there is something seriously wrong with you, I'm sorry And I know who I am I'll be a voice coming from nowhere, inside-- be glad for me.

The humiliation I go through/when I think of my past/can only be described as grace./We are created by being destroyed.

The long silences need to be loved, perhaps more than the words which arrive to describe them in time.

We are created by being destroyed.

I wish my father could be around.

I basked in you; I loved you, helplessly, with a boundless tongue-tied love. And death doesn't prevent me from loving you. Besides, in my opinion you aren't dead. (I know dead people, and you are not dead.)