Art is only abstract when you look the other way.
We all ended up somewhere with our various uncertain lives flapping about us in tatters and our pockets full of foreign coins.
Time is the mother and mugger of us all.
Like a diaphanous nightgown, language both hides and reveals.
Either I've been missing something or nothing has been going on.
A pronoun, too, will aptly reflect the number of its antecedent: "they" does not refer to one person, no matter how many personalities she or he has, or how eager you are to skirt the gender frays.