Hands have their own language.

Every day is a masterpiece, even if it crushes you.

Where are people going? I wonder what they hope will happen and what they are afraid of? For me it's the same thing and has to do with being loved.

I wanted to explain that trusting is harder than being trusted.

When small drops began to fall and darken the world in penny-shaped circles, no one around him scurried for cover. For lonely people, rain is a chance to be touched.

Life just swallows you up, doesn't it?Just swallows you up with its everyday things

We touched with a softness that pushed through the skin into memory, like arms plunged into a river - we could feel the weight of each other's stones.