When I read or write, I feel that the words have a life of their own. I can hear the voices and songs between the lines, they seem like pleas from distant pasts who don't know it can no longer be retrieved.

Some might find this sad, I admire they have so much strength to make themselves be heard. I try my best to offer them a memory in this world, to make their efforts worth. I scatter them around like little birds, and they fly free to places I will never know. So they can find someone less broken who can take them to beautiful dreams.

But I’ll be here and you'll be here, too

Emilico