I didn't know what I was doing in New York.

The sky leans on me, me, the one upright among all horizontals.

I buried my head under the darkness of the pillow and pretended it was night. I couldn't see the point of getting up. I had nothing to look forward to.

There was a beautiful time.

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

Winning or losing an argument, receiving an acceptance or rejection, is no proof of the validity or value of personal identity. One may be wrong, mistaken, or a poor craftsman, or just ignorant - but this is no indication of the true worth of one's total human identity: past, present and future!

If I didn’t think, I’d be much happier.