I Never Cared About Whatever

For Who Expects Nothing, All That Comes Is Grateful

God Wills, Man Dreams, The Work Is Born.

But Do We Really Live? To Live Without Knowing What Life Is - Is That Living?

I Am The Outskirts Of Some Non-existent Town, The Long-winded Prologue To An Unwritten Book. I'm Nobody, Nobody. I Don't Know How To Feel Or Think Or Love. I'm A Character In A Novel As Yet Unwritten, Hovering In The Air And Undone Before I've Even Existed, Amongst The Dreams Of Someone Who Never Quite Managed To Breath Life Into Me.

Art Consists In Making Others Feel What We Feel.