- tell me, when will the river run green? -

a, exasperated: who are these people?
b: ordinary people under extraordinary pressure, a. what the hell do you expect? Grace and Consistency?

the insider

notes, the second

young writers face a particularly nasty predicament - they can neither afford to sound jaded and staid, for there they lose their 'edge' (as if we're all somehow hewn from rough rock. which we may be, if it comes to that), nor can they ever slip into childishness. and the trick is in finding your own niche without caring a damn whether some other young writer somewhere thinks 'what is that? he sounds fifty..', or if some old hand throws the paper away muttering 'kids...they haven't seen anything, don't know anything.'

the tragedy is that they are both right. we've seen just enough to begin our sentences, but not enough to end them - and there we lose ourselves in the space between letters.

there is no period at the end of this sentence

-

to those who look to the stars, and find salvation in their enormity and the self's own minute-ness in the 'general scheme of things', to those who fly at night when no-one is watching, and who fall only when the sun rises, i have words. they tell stories of daring, and they speak of not falling back on the sky as an excuse, but holding yourself to it's standard. there is so much beauty.

you're beautiful.

-

even broken glass shines.

-

sometimes it's alright to test yourself by fire - but there'll always be someone waiting on the crest of the hill, wishing you didn't have to. love is when they let you hurt yourself a little bit, if only so you can trust yourself a little bit more.

we're all in a cycle. hold yourself to the sky.