texts: There is so little I know. It is as though I were walking down a long corridor that once was mirrored, and fragments of mirror still hang there, dark and shadowy, reflecting a dark image of me... and yet not me... someone else, in other clothes, of another time, doing things I have never done... but still me... And I can't stop to ask why, I must keep on walking. At the and of the corridor there is nothing but darkness, and I know when I walk into the darkness, I'll die.  But I've never come to the and; I've always come back, before then. Except once.
labels: Yesterday.