We hold on to things that don't make sense because they make us feel safe.
The shadows of the wings of man. The golden glow of divine sacrament.
The almost-imagined touch of a human hand.
Thursday mornings in coffeeshops.
Drawings on white paper in cyberspace.
Hidden symbols on the undersides of continuity.
Losing yourself in pen and paint and ink and christmas and dancing animals in the dark.
All I want is you.
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