She Felt Worthless And Hollow.

Once, Lovers On Faraway Shores Sat By Candlelight And Dipped Ink To Parchment, Writing Words That Could Not Be Erased. They Took An Evening To Compose Their Thoughts, Maybe The Next Evening As Well.

And I Suppose Tapes Are A Desperate Attempt To Steal Something From Death's Suitcase.

Dor: There Is A Reason God Lmits Our Days. Victor: Why? Dor: To Make Each One Precious.

Please, Please, Please, Please, Please...,", Squeezing His Eyes Shut Because It Somehow Made The Words More Pure.

How Do People Choose Their Final Words? Do They Realize Their Gravity? Are They Fated To Be Wise?