January 2011
“For every word spoken, so many more were left unsaid.”
SWANFUCKER: CUTTING LOOSE →
leda-swanson:
Sometimes from sorrow, for no reason, you sing. For no reason, you accept the way of being lost, cutting loose from all else and electing a world where you go where you want to.
Arbitrary, sound comes, a reminder that a steady center is holding all else. If you listen, that sound will…
