A single gentle rain makes the grass many shades greener. So our prospects brighten . . .

When your life has had few events to occupy it, it's amazing how a simple encounter can seem like an entire three-act play.

Where we are going, I don't know. It doesn't seem to be the place that is important but the steps in between.

I used to be someone.

Maybe there was no one way to define it. Maybe there were as many shades of love as the blues of the sky.

When is a cell finally too small to hold our essence?

On a small planet, where minute follows minute, day follows day, year follows year, where tradition marches on with a deafening, orderly beat -sometimes the order is disturbed by a dreamer, an artist, a scribbler - sometimes the beat is changed one person at a time.