"i wish the sky would rain down roses, as they rain from off the shaken bush. why will it not?"
28
the folly of having a sensitive heart is that unfamiliar words and unforeseen gestures further depress you. it is a strange, uneventful thing, when darkness fills the empty glasses around you and you, taking heed from nothing in particular, sink deeper and deeper, drowning in melancholy until there is no place (in your nostalgic mind) left to wander.
