One forgets that one is one. I must try to remember this.
No one ever really gets used to nightmares.
Do not wake me from this slumber, but be assured that just as I have wept much, I have also wandered many roads with my thoughts.
Her smile, I'm sure, burnt Rome to the ground.
Maturity, one discovers, has everything to do with the acceptance of ‘not knowing.
Maybe you saw her first? Caught a glimpse between the lines, between the letters, like a ghost in the mirror, a ghost in the wings?