Transmission? Not received. No one listens to this station anyway.

I never have much wisdom to offer, I guess I haven't lived enough yet. When I do, it's often overlooked. (Let's not and say we did!) The frustration isn't in being ignored (sometimes, I'll fade into relative obscurity just so I'll be left alone), it's having my moments of minute clarity turned upon a blind eye. I'm a quiet little fiend. Stealthy, quiet, whatever you wanna call it. I don't feel the need to yell. Because we'd all be yelling then. So, in good health, to each and every ghost, to the forgotten rebels, forgotten loves, forgotten children, fermenting condiments and Japanese phrases, I've only got one last thing to say. It's not mine, of course. I've passed all that.

The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love, and be loved in return.










Souviens-tu quand dans l'école,on jouais des jeux de fugue? C'est impossible d'entendre quand tu n'écoute jamais. Alors, je fermerai ma bouche. Alors, j'irai tuer mes mots. C'est le temps d'hiver, mes amis. Le temps de fugue.