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I think a vast amount of people in the West are lost and have been for a very long time. That’s why they follow blindly.

Imagine two realities intertwined but at one time separate. Everything that’s possible happening simultaneously but happening in an illogical order.

Grief is strange, it comes at you from all angles.

Things happen so fast, you’re born, you fall in love, you’re old. And the greatest things get crammed into the tiniest bits of time. The briefest moments are the very ones you wish you could capture, dwell upon, live in … we want to but we can’t … good thing, that.

The Winter Palace sleeps in a cold blue dawn of stillness. Oh that it could sleep forever like this, frozen in time. Hard is the soil. Still is the air Gentle the sky And when the morning breaks that it should stay undisturbed. Oh morning do not come and bring your horror. But morning broke…