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Dear Yarden, It’s 4:30 am. I wake up thinking about you. That must sound crazy, but I’m certain I’m not the only one. One of the things that I fell in love with since the aftermath
I’m not one to express feelings in public. And I’m not one to leap onto passing trends like water rushing down a shower drain, pulling everyone with it. Even when that water is the compiled tears
Twin heads of copper hairblindingly bright likesun-fires in thevery eyes of Godthat bore a holethrough the conscienceof an indifferent world. The heart of a nationbeat hard and fast,was pierced, and bledon tenterhooks ofthe oldest hateplaying out