Description
Dreams.... art, dance and fleeting memories and music. That I can no longer make sense of. Maybe they never did. Maybe they don't have to. Yet, I've tried. Tried to peice them all together...to sew these.. endlessly t o r n fabric Into one.... But I can't. There was a time that I was sure that I had a name. Not anymore. Now here I lay, tired but more awake than I've ever been, attempting to sketch them out, perhaps on paper and to write them to those who can read. I now attempt to disclose my dreams of times I chased butterflies and the times they chased me. Because now all that I can do is dream. Only dream... Highest ranks: 12 in diary 5 personal narrative
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