I listen to the summer symphony outside my window. Truthfully, it's not a symphony at all. There's no tune, no melody, only the same notes over and over. Chirps and tweets and trills and burples. It's as if the insect orchestra is forever tuning its instruments, forever waiting for the maestro to tap his baton and bring them to order. I, for one, hope the maestro never comes. I love the music mess of it.

Beware of solipsism Funny word. Sounds like it means "love of melons" or something. I looked it up. It means believing that "the self is the only reality." Am I solipsist?

It (enchantment) started when the earth was born. It never stops. It is, always. It's just here.

Nothing’s more fun than being carried away.

I didn't realize we were being watched. We were all being watched

I had never realized how much I needed the attention of others to confirm my own presence.

Why fit in when you're born to stand out?