Things won't happen. Plans won't take off. But it'll be better than last year. Definitely better, he said.
There are certain times I want to see if I can stretch. Make my hand extend to reach the treetop. There is a small little box there. It has a tiny wing. I want that wing.
The reel plays over and over again inside my head. It has psychedelic colours. And they all form patterns. They are abstract to everyone else who sees it. To me, they make shapes I know.