At A Certain Moment In Social Proceedings,

There Are No Magics Or Elves / Or Timely Godmothers To Guide Us. We Are Lost, Must / Wizard A Track Through Our Own Screaming Weed.

Each Body Has Its Art.

I Shall Create! If Not A Note, A Hole./if Not An Overture, A Desecration.

Art Hurts. Art Urges Voyages - And It Is Easier To Stay At Home.

She Was Learning To Love Moments. To Love Moments For Themselves.