Traveling is not something you are good at. It is something you do. Like breathing.

Adam lay perfectly still, little groans escaping from his lips. I looked at the bow, looked at my hands, looked at Adam's face and felt this surge of love, lust, and an unfamiliar feeling of power.

I don't really care. I shouldn't have to care. I shouldn't have to work this hard. I realize now that dying is easy. Living is hard.

Then I smell the sweat on him, a clean musky scent that I'd bottle and wear as perfume if I could.

It was just one day and it's been just one year. But maybe one day is enough. Maybe one hour is enough. Maybe time has nothing at all to do with it". Willem

Traveling isn't something you're good at. It's something you do. Like breathing.

I am adrenaline slammed into inertia: a fast car stuck in traffic.