I say a stranger is more inclined to tell you who you are, than you are to tell that stranger.
You stand in front of a mirror. You see the light rays bouncing off of this reflective surface to form the image which you have come to label as, you. The light rays bend and twist as they pass through the many prisms to collect the colors that are ( Read more... )

I don't really know what it is, but there is something about The Lonely Hours of the night that just makes everything so much more beauteous and meaningful. Maybe it's the fact that the narcissistic sun is torturing the other side of the earth; the dark shade of night covers everything and acts as a comforting blanket while the comely Miss Moon ( Read more... )