Can you imagine a life without music?
Where is Cheshire?
How can Jesus exist when you are putting a perfect being into an imperfect form?
Is love trivial?
So few of the so many questions dancing in a plethora around my head, and not nearly enough time to even recognize them.
You are looking at an unsolved problem.
You are listening to an annoyingly addictive voice.
You are gazing into clear eyes with clouds swirling on the inside.
You have just met the Optomistic Pessimist.
Will you survive her?
Can she survive you?
