June
Tuesday 25 March 2008 photo 1/1
|
The past is a gaping hole. You try to run from it, but the more you
run, the deeper it grows behind you, its edges yawning at your heels.
Your only chance is to turn around and face it. But it's like looking
down into the grave of your love, or kissing the mouth of a gun, a
bullet trembling in its dark nest, ready to blow your head off.
The past is a puzzle, like a broken mirror. As you peice it together,
your image keeps shifting. And you change with it. It could destroy
you, drive you mad. It could set you free.
Death is inevitable. Our fear of it makes us play safe, blocks out
emotion. It's a losing game. Without passion you are already dead.
Annons
Visa toppen
Show footer