A room full of words that are nearly the truth but not quite, each note fluttering off the steam of its rose like a broken butterfly wing.

We can never understand. We can only try, fumbling our way through the tunneled places, reaching for light.

Until, one day, she wasn’t.

The sparrows jumped before they knew how to fly, and they learned to fly only because they had jumped.

But this isn’t like anything I’ve ever seen, or imagined, or even dreamed: This is like music or dancing but better than both.

Waste today, want tomorrow.

There are no happy endings, only breaks in the regular action.