Life is but a short and fevered rehearsal for a concert we cannot stay to give.
honestly i don't understand the rousing of romance all that well. i used to believe in this thing called fate, or destiny. a romantic romeo and juliet, monet and veronica, etc. but now i feel jaded, maybe agnostic to the idea. but choice used to seem...
If isolation is the furnace of transformation, I could be ashes by now.
