- I don't remember the twists and turns I've made on this journey having any rhyme or reason, or having any distinct causes. / Things happened. I changed. Life evolved. I sometimes wish that there was a better explanation - so I could offer apologies - and warnings to those around me. A warning label: I am flammable - I don't know anymore than you what will spark me into flames or what I will consume. I don't know the range of my fire or the course I might take./ The wind may make me drift. I may destroy what I had no intention of harming. I may consume you.
I'm sorry.
-All of this shit is waiting to come screaming out of me. It's lying in wait just below the surface of what seems calm and placid. But it's waiting... knowing that release is imminent... Destruction possible.
- There is something really disheartening about her alarm clock going off in the morning. I hate it when she has to pull these 14 hour days. / She'll get up and get dressed and the entire time - I'll watch her... The computer light shines pale blue on her white skin - and she looks amazing. She gets this glow about her in the morning - her face just looks rested.
- If you listen really closely to southerners - you can hear the remnants of what used to be an English accent. / But over generations, it evolved - and changed into something different. And not necessarily better. / Everything changes - within groups of people - within individuals - and the structure of cities. And not always a change for the better. / At the end of us - you could hear the remnants of a partnership (a real, working one) in our voices. But only the remnant - that's all I could hear. / I know things have to change. I know that nothing lasts forever. But I don't want to hear that empty echo when I talk to you. I don't want change in that direction. But I do want to change. / Too bad that beggars can't be choosers.
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