de ieri de alaltaieri de cand nu ma stiu traiesc din sbor, tot ce vad vad de sus, perspectiva damnata si maxim pistruiata, cateodata decalata, niciodata programata.
this is the winter of my disconnect. shake my spear, i must.
i trust they won't see me through the freckles of my lust. and all the mirror images and all the mirror neurons reflect upon themselves. no shadow lies beneath our mirrored selves.