Who knows but that, on the lower frequencies, I speak for you?

To hell with being ashamed of what you liked.

Having tried to give pattern to the chaos which lives within the pattern of your certainties, I must come out, I must emerge.

Some people are your relatives but others are your ancestors, and you choose the ones you want to have as ancestors. You create yourself out of those values.

I denounce because though implicated and partially responsible, I have been hurt to the point of abysmal pain, hurt to the point of invisibility. And I defend because in spite of it all, I find that I love.

There are few things in the world as dangerous as sleepwalkers.

My hole is warm and full of light.