“All the world’s a stage, And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances; And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages.”
~ William Shakespeare
“The fog was where I wanted to be. Halfway down the path you can’t see this house.
You’d never know it was here.
Or any of the other places down the avenue.
I couldn’t see but a few feet ahead. I didn’t
meet a soul. Everything looked and sounded unreal.
Nothing was what it is. That’s what I wanted—to be alone with myself in another world where truth is untrue and life can hide from itself.
Out beyond the harbor, where the road runs along the beach, I even lost the feeling of being on land.
The fog and the sea seemed part of each other.
It was like walking on the bottom of the sea.
As if I had drowned long ago.
As if I was the ghost belonging to the fog, and the fog was the ghost of the sea.
It felt damned peaceful to be nothing more than a ghost within a ghost.”
― Eugene O’Neill
I’ve always loved making hearts, from as long as I can recall. Mom was never thrilled to find hearts drawn on my jeans, or bubble gum blown into a bubble and stored in the butter compartment in the fridge, that trick I’ve lost, hearts never.