Sometimes you read a book so special that you want to carry it around with you for months after you've finished just to stay near it.

The question is what color will everything be at that moment when I come for you? What will the sky be saying?

I only know that all of those people would have sensed me that night, excluding the youngest of the children. I was the suggestion. I was the advice, my imagined feet walking into the kitchen and down the corridor.

The city buildings in the distance are holding up the sky, it seems.

She was one if the few souls that made me wonder what's it to live.

There are so many moments to remember and sometimes I think that maybe we're not really people at all. Maybe moments are what we are.... Sometimes I just survive. But sometimes I stand on the rooftop of my existence, arms stretched out, begging for more.

I'm just another stupid human.