There are moments between people when something happens, something non-physical, non-verbal, but mystical. It often doesn't make sense within the normal considerations of what usually contributes to such connection with the key factors being time and shared experience.

One day, she had this terrible gut to write something about moving on and taking a second chance at life. The word convalescence had crossed her mind so many times and tried to read the meaning of it in the dictionary. It’s funny how the word comes into place when she thinks about having another chance to be happy.

The real descent into ecstasy and pain, I can signify only by love, the purest expression of it. But in someways the love-hate undergone by me, was a fuller image because it integrates the “real and unreal.” Life-flow and death – flow, in single act. The act is emotional. I am never overt about it, whether in my fantasies and consciousness. But I have in mind what it takes to be essential figure of those mysteries behind such torment.