It's Not A Real Name,"

The Circus Itself Is My Personal Ideal Entertainment Venue.

I Don;t Think There's Anything Wrong With Being A Dreamer. There Is Not. But Dreams Have Ways Of Turning Into Nightmares.

Do You Remember All Of Your Audiences?" Marco Asks. "not All Of Them," Celia Says. "but I Remember The People Who Look At Me The Way You Do." "what Way Might That Be?" "as Though They Cannot Decide If They Are Afraid Of Me Or They Want To Kiss Me." " I Am Not Afraid Of You," Marco Says.

If She Were Gone I Would Be Nothing. You Should Think Better Of Yourself Than To Settle For That.

There Is A Movement Happening, A Quiet One. A Low-profile, Low-resolution Revolution. Comprised Of Writers And Dreamers, Of Guerrilla Artists And Thought-ninjas. Those With Something To Say. They Communicate Through Text Inscribed On True Public Spaces, Rather Than Blogs And Forums. Choosing Fewer Words, Even Without Being Bound By 140 Character Limits. Using Ink Instead Of Pixels. Sending Messages In Living, Breathing Space. Pens Scream Louder Into The Void. Even If Permanent Ink Is Not Aptly Named.