I try not to think about anything special while running. As a matter of fact, I usually run with my mind empty. However, when I run empty-minded, something naturally and abruptly crawls in sometime. That might become an idea that can help me with my writing.

What I was chasing in circles must have been the tail of the darkness inside me.

I stare at her chest. As she breathes, the rounded peaks move up and down like the swell of waves, somehow reminding me of rain falling softly on a broad stretch of sea. I'm the lonely voyager standing on deck, and she's the sea. The sky is a blanket of gray, merging with the gray sea off on the horizon. It's hard to tell the difference between sea and sky. Between voyager and sea. Between reality and the workings of the heart.

Who can really distinguish between the sea and what's reflected in it? Or tell the difference between the falling rain and loneliness?

But didn't you say you were satisfied with your life?" "Word games," I dismissed. "Every army needs a flag.

Artists are those who can evade the verbose.

For a while" is a phrase whose length can't be measured.At least by the person who's waiting.