Why Is It Beautiful That

I Wonder How Well She Sleeps At Night, And What Kind Of Dreams She Has. I Wish I Could Step Into Them Like She Steps Into Mine.

I'm Not A General Or A Colonel Or A Builder Of Cities. I'm Just A Corpse Who Wants Not To Be.

But We Don’t Remember Those Lives. We Can’t Read Our Diaries.’ ‘it Doesn’t Matter. We Are Where We Are, However We Got Here. What Matters Is Where We Go Next.’ ‘but Can We Choose That?’ ‘i Don’t Know.’ ‘we’re Dead. Can We Really Choose Anything?’ ‘maybe. If We Want To Bad Enough.

The Kind Of Stuff I Usually Read Is A Bit More On The Literary Side, Like Books That I Think Are Influential In The Sense That They're Doing Pulpy Subject Matter In A Refined Way. Like 'the Road' By Cormac Mccarthy, I Loved That Book.

Breathing Is Optional, But I Need Some Air.