question of the day: what do you do when the path turns unexpectedly into something both frightening and wonderful? how do you let yourself fall into the vast uncertainty of something which looks like love, but breathes like a flower and inspires like the hands of a masseuse who works for free? how do you mark something which boasts the bud of a rose not yet in bloom, as well as the thorn, thick and vicious with the persistence of a poem that will not be denied?



ie. how do you bungee jump without a will?

-staceyann chin-