Butterfly

climb into my mouth...

Hope

It is hope which both allows us to continue... and destroys us...

tragedy

Sometimes, I feel like life is nothing more than a tragedy which continues until the actors are all dead, like Hamlet. The only thing which we really have are the small moments of feeling connection with those whom we love. We have also those moments of complete transparency, like when Hamlet proclaims his love for Ophelia. And those moments when you really feel like you understand the state of things, though in the smallest way. When the flavor of the wine fills your head, or you take a bite from a steak which is gushing juices from the incision, or hear a song which epitomizes your feeling, or a fascinatingly ugly insect.

Alright, I'm changing. My beginning and ending of the previous paragram argue for different perspectives. I need change...