As little as you want
to write when you're happy...
... that's how much you have to
write when you're miserable.
Your passions have to go somewhere...
... and this is the only place left.
Your suffering has to be
good for something.
It's not for me to say if
the words were worth the price.
Thousands of years ago...
... somebody came up with
the notion of impermanence.
Of the beauty
and inevitability of change.
I'm pretty sure
they had just been dumped.
I had a long time to consider
the value of memory.
And the idea that just because
something doesn't last forever...
... doesn't mean its worth is diminished.
Maybe it was just a rationalization.
Easier on the soul than
mourning what might have been.
A life unlived.
I honestly don't know.
But I chose to believe in memory.
I chose to believe in her.
I chose to believe
that the bond was never broken...
...and that we carried each other
in our hearts.
As a secret singularity.
I think that there
are two forces on Earth...
...you never want to be fighting.
One is Mother Nature.
The other is Love.
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