写作的行为是对生活荒谬性的一种抵抗。
I have to remind myself that some birds aren't meant to be caged. Their feathers are just too bright. And when they fly away, the part of you that knows it was a sin to lock hem up DOES rejoice. Still, the place you live in is that much more drab and empty that they're gone. I guess I just miss my friend.
April is the cruelest month, breeding lilacs out of the dead land, mixing memory and desire, stirring dull roots with spring rain.
