Idleness Is The Beginning Of

What Am I Doing Here In This Endless Winter?

Last Night I Dreamed About You. What Happened In Detail I Can Hardly Remember, All I Know Is That We Kept Merging Into One Another. I Was You, You Were Me. Finally You Somehow Caught Fire.

There Is A Goal But No Way; What We Call The Way Is Mere Wavering.

The Purpose Of A Story Is To Be An Axe That Breaks Up The Ice Within Us.

There Is Nothing Bad To Fear; Once You Have Crossed That Threshold, All Is Well. Another World, And You Do Not Have To Speak