Yet I never sought what is real yearned for the real but rather I have yearned for dreams more than solid things. I can say I love the textures of dreams. The way they hover and almost taste. The clouds and darkness that linger behind mostly unseen. And the palette of dreams. You can almost taste the colours they seem as words on the tip of the tongue unsayable as pomegranate seeds unsayable as thick cream the darkness of such a thick cream. This is why I am obsessed with dreams. They know what we cannot. Night after night they try and tell us the impossible. Dreams are secret and closed and also contain everything gushing splayed open. Dream suitcases carpetbags hold-alls. They influence us secretly and they draw me to travel to nowhere to beautys passage through halls of mirrors where I know I am not myself I know I am sublime.

I pray for all of us oppressor and friendthat together we may succeed in building a better worldthrough human understanding and loveand that in doing so we may reducethe pain and suffering of all sentient beings.

Dream big and never give up on those dreams. Who knows where theyll take you

It is hard to imagine the things you have never seen.

A blind mans world is bounded by the limits of his touch an ignorant mans world by the limits of his knowledge a great mans world by the limits of his vision.

The energy it took to exit mothers womb is the same force required to manifest a dream...a different kind of struggle. Push push push

Our hearts our hopes our prayers our tears our faith triumphant oer our fears are all with thee are all with thee

I had a dream about you. You were hungry so I made you a binocular sandwich which is peeping power between two slices of bread. You were a hungry pervert so I thought it perfect.

I dreamt it in my dream. You tried to steal my dreamthe whole thing. But even though it was a dream it was still too heavy for you to lift.

S o que sonhamos o que verdadeiramente somos porque o mais por estar realizado pertenece ao mundo e a toda a gente