You Were Given Life; It

To My Taste, The Men In Rome Are Ridiculously, Hurtfully, Stupidly Beautiful. More Beautiful Even Than Roman Women, To Be Honest. Italian Men Are Beautiful In The Same Way As French Women, Which Is To Say-- No Detail Spared In The Quest For Perfection. They’re Like Show Poodles. Sometimes They Look So Good I Want To Applaud.

Mostly You Meet Friends When Traveling By Accident, Like By Sitting Next To Them On The Train, Or In A Restaurant, Or In A Holding Cell.

I Crossed The Street To Walk In The Sunshine.

Faith Is Belief In What You Cannot See Or Prove Or Touch. Faith Is Walking Face-first And Full-speed Into The Dark.

Oh, Cold World -- I Have Grown So Weary Of You And All Your Horrible Bathrooms.