"you know what this is?" he asked once, while we sat in a overly warm and friendly diner.

i stared at him, not really about to answer but leaning forward expectantly nonetheless.

"it's the pattern of all of life's sufferings and it plays out beautifully."

beautiful.

beautiful.
dude, we need to write something together. i think it would be awesome.

his arm, a dotted line, like life's hidden contract, flail about in his quest to convey all of life's hidden meanings in the span of a crowded room.