I know you don't think that any tongue I speak is mine; it must be rented. I am always denial, or pretense. A child born mid-flight has no nation. I can pull on either culture, but they always melt like a dream, trickle away, water on the oiled pelt of foreign. - Jasmine Ann Cooray
Perfect...as it was, it had to be, andlittle dreams were spinning madlyas a flock of birds in mid-flight, thesingle vision of a single moment, a singlemoment, frozen in time no more. No moredid he need, to understand thatit was better than any he couldtake, and call his own, it was Perfect... - Stefan G. Dimov