Love is a funny thing, isn't it? The presence of it can bring you to save a foe, the absence of it can make you hurt your own flesh.

California always had been a dream to me. I guess growing up in the 70s with movies like Vanishing Point, The Getaway, and Badlands formed the need for me to leave Germany for California. I'd never even visited before I moved there. When I moved to Los Angeles in 1996 right away I felt at home. Everything was in place and the dream was alive.

I always thought death was cruel, a silent destroyer of breath, of hope, of life. Now I understand it is physical death, the perception of it, the fear of it, which often saves us; for death marks the end of our flesh causing us to question the future of what we are.

I dropped my juggling balls and my face grew embarrassed. It wasn't until then that I looked around the circus of life and noted all were too consumed on their own juggling act to see. This is when I learned to have fun, and kick the balls instead.

How easy it is to forgive and loose the most violent offender, when in tears, they repent. How difficult it is forgiving our own self, for the eyes of our reflection will always expose our untold sins.

What is truth? Truth is what causes you to breathe again when lies have told you, you are already dead.

What is it about a secret love that makes everything they do shine, everything they say sound like a sonnet and every expression they make perfect, when to everyone else you speak to they're quite ordinary. It's a cruel sort of thing.