Antoine St. Exupery once mourned the loss of a man and the secret treasures that he held inside him. I loved Exupery; I will read him again, and he will talk to me, not being dead, or gone. Is that life after death — mind living on paper and flesh living in offspring? Maybe. I do not know.

Read widely of others' experiences, even if it'd be more comfortable to snuggle back in the comforting cotton-wool of blissful ignorance.

I suppose I'll always be over-vulnerable, slightly paranoid.

The silence depressed me. It wasn't the silence of silence. It was my own silence.

The only thing I could think of was turkey neck and turkey gizzards and I felt very depressed.

How frail the human heart must be - a mirrored pool of thought.

I love life. But it is hard and I have so much, so very much to learn.