“The opportunity for the fun you seek is always here, and here, and here. And for me, today is not the day that it is, today is in fact a brand new day, a day that has truly never before existed.” Days Book:Birds on a Carousel Source: Birds on a Carousel
“When you were a child, you tell me, you lived under a tin roof, and whenever it rained, beneath its slanting body, you’d sit and listen to the millions of pouring droplets. In them you found tiny signs of the world, a place where you could make sense of things through a divine sound that poured over you. This sound, you say, cloaked your entire childhood, and underneath this sound were the memories of your unfledged years. She seems to have cut ties with time; a minute to her would be a meaningless sound, an hour a gentle breeze. She seems to glide through time, as opposed to everyone else who scurries behind it; perhaps her relationship with time has resulted in mutual indifference, for they have lived with one another for so long that they’ve gone their separate ways; but they respect each other, her and time, from a metaphysical distance.” ChildhoodRainMemory Book:Birds on a Carousel Source: Birds on a Carousel
“Days. I think perhaps we give the names of days too much power. During my years at school, after I had been thoroughly introduced to the system of the week, I often saw each day as an individual character, each containing specific traits whether I enjoyed them or not. But why must we fit life into these repetitive compartments, constantly expecting the same seven outcomes? Perhaps we are just too habituated to whatever it is we have decided that each day feels like, we are familiar with the emotional patterns, we know how to feel, what to expect, and we aren’t completely open to the spontaneity of what could arrive if we just let each day be a blank canvas.” Time Book:Birds on a Carousel Source: Birds on a Carousel