i wonder if people ever think of the everlasting consequences of seemingly fleeting actions. simple strokes of the pen, a click of the shutter, a simple hug, a kiss, or even a small wave goodbye (paul). what exists mere moments in a physical plane of linear progression, can also live infinitely outside that physical constraint. once it lays a golden touch to your memory, or (pardon the cheese) your heart, then there's no turning back.

we dance around naked underneath our clothes, rivers of saline flow from our pains, the years tick away, and tomorrow we pass on. we touch other people's lives, while others do the same to us. we are unconsciously painting our pictures, singing our songs, writing the poems of our lives. does the songwriter ever know how many will listen to the song quietly, in a lonely stupor? did jeff buckley know? did ebe dancel? ... did you? the small details are the fabric of our lives. always seen and felt but often overlooked. yet underneath it all lies a pure, true, naked you.