Well I have brittle bones it seems
I bite my tongue and I torch my dreams
Have a little voice to speak with
And a mind of thoughts and secrecy
But time… how time first grounds us and then confounds us. We thought we were being mature when we were only being safe. We imagined we were being responsible but we were only being cowardly. What we called realism turned out to be a way of avoiding things rather than facing them. Time… give us enough time and our best-supported decisions will seem wobbly, our certainties whimsical.
“
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Julian Barnes, The Sense of an Ending (via saisonlune)
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There is a story, always ahead of you. Barely existing. Only gradually do you attach yourself to it and feel it. You discover the carapace that will contain and test your character. You find in this way the path of your life.
I love the feeling of possibility.
Destroying things is much easier than making them.
