All That Remains Of That Minute Is

Stormy Skies, Says Ernesto. He Grieved For Them. Summer Rain. Childhood.

She Had Lived Her Early Years As Though She Were Waiting For Something She Might, But Never Did, Become.

We’re In The Vanguard Of A Nameless Battle, A Battle Without Arms Or Bloodshed Or Glory: We’re In The Vanguard Of Waiting.

It Was The Men I Deceived The Most That I Loved The Most.

I Suddenly Remember Something I've Been Told About Fear. That Amid A Hail Of Machine Gun Fire You Notice The Existence Of Your Skin.