I like the feeling of running my fingers through the soft pages of books, especially those newly displayed ones. It must be the tangibility of it that draws me in. Like a child I become, wondering through the book store, subconsciously listening to the muffled voices of strangers whilst lost in my world of thoughts and endless choices of stories to immense myself in. Safe. I feel safe there. In that zone of no explanation.

You gave up on sensitivity yesterday. Enough. Enough of protecting, sugar coating and suppressing all of the pent up frustration and angst of the living. It should not be. We should not do this to ourselves. To exist in this manner, having to abide in a constant world of self abuse. Tactful, yes. But what about honesty? Or maybe we simply have this intrinsic compulsion to inflict hurt onto others to ease our repressed mind.

- Shot by Leenik - Falling Down