And you grit your teeth, despising yourself for your tremulous sensitivity, and wondering how human beings can suffer their individualities to be mercilessly crushed under a machinelike dictatorship, be it of industry, state or organization, all their lives long.

I think I am mad sometimes.

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

The tulips are too red...they hurt me.

If I was going to fall, I would hang on to my small comforts, at least, for as long as I possibly could.

What have I eaten? Lies and smiles.

Love, love, I have hung our cave with roses.