to you, and the lives we haven't lived, but remember anyway

hey you, out there in the cold
getting lonely, getting old
can you feel me?
hey you, standing in the aisles
with itchy feet and fading smiles
can you feel me?
hey you, don’t help them to bury the light
don’t give in without a fight.

hey you, out there on your own
sitting naked by the phone
would you touch me?
hey you, with you ear against the wall
waiting for someone to call out
would you touch me?
hey you, would you help me to carry the stone?
open your heart, I’m coming home.

[...]

hey you, standing in the road
always doing what you’re told,
can you help me?
hey you, out there beyond the wall,
breaking bottles in the hall,
can you help me?
hey you, don’t tell me there’s no hope at all
together we stand, divided we fall.

"well, only got an hour of daylight left. better get started"
"isnt it unsafe to travel at night? "
"it’ll be a lot less safe to stay here. you’re father’s gunna pick up our trail before long"
"can loca ride? "
"yeah, I can ride... magaret, time to go! magaret, thank you for everything"
"goodbye chenga"
"goodbye miss ..."
"i’ll be back"



nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands...

i'm walking on the edge of my roof, you see....way up there, beyond the clouds. beyond your reach. the normal rules don't apply. there are no rules. except gravity. and i live on the edge. i tip-toe now, moving across the concrete, to gain a better view.

except gravity. lets see where the music takes me tonight...

"there's another world inside of me that you may never see,
there's secrets in this life that I can't hide,
well somewhere in this darkness there's a light that I can't find,
well maybe it's too far away,
or maybe I'm just blind,
maybe I'm just blind...

[...]

i won't tell you a damn thing that I could not tell my friends,
roaming through this darkness, I'm alive but I'm alone,
and part of me is fighting this,
but part of me is gone... "


-'when i'm gone', three doors down.

BEIJING, March 14: China's parliament amended the constitution on Sunday to protect private property, a landmark move in the Communist ideology of the world's most populous nation.

But Premier Wen Jiabao, a populist and cautious reformer, has not forgotten the roots of the party, which was once the vanguard of the proletariat but now tries to be everything to everyone.

More than 99 per cent of 2,896 delegates to the National People's Congress approved Wen's work report - his first since taking office last March - in which he championed workers and peasants. "The Communist Party wants to represent everybody," Chinese political commentator Wu Jiaxiang said.

Five decades after sweeping to power, a period during which private property has been nationalized and campaigns have been waged against landlords, China's parliament amended the constitution to add the clause: "Private property obtained legally is inviolable."

"The artist is one who is full of questions, who cries them out in great angst, who discovers rainbow answers in the darkness, and then rushes to canvas or paper. An artist is someone who cannot rest, who can never rest as long as there is one suffering creature in this world. Along with Plato's divine madness there is also divine discontent, a longing to find the melody in the dischords of chaos, the rhyme in the cacophany, the surprised smile in time of stress or strain. Perhaps the artist longs to sleep well every night, to eat anything without indigestion, to feel no moral qualms, to turn off the television news and make a bologna sandwich after seeing the devastation and death caused by famine and drought and earthquake and flood. But the artist cannot manage this normalcy. Vision keeps breaking through, and must find means of expression."

-Madeliene L'Engle