What a mess of civil unrest...

Delancey can't help but question her worth as a writer. But Joel can see it very clearly.

Accidently skipped a number.

Something I've always thought about on all the time.

This was more of a shower thought.

Scrap paper thoughts...I lost count in my desk pile.

Thoughts of freedom.

Thoughts of a poet.

Small thoughts of a poet

More small thoughts

Small thoughts I write on small scraps of paper.

Small thoughts I write on small scraps of paper.

Pack your things and run for the hills.

What do you really know?

A sense of true presence.

I never cared for when my mind remembered the dark places

Ariel’s secret words to Prospero.

Old memories of a difficult time.