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“Sometimes I think my brain opened as far as it could go when I was about seventeen, and its doors have been just stuck there ever since. And now they're ossifying and collecting cobwebs, and things are spilling in, swirling around for a bit, and then flying out again. And someday they'll start to swing slowly shut, and I'll be left in the dark with nothing but a few rustling fragments of thoughts that get thinner and weaker every time I use them. Like tea leaves. And sometimes I think I can do anything.” — H.G. Parry
Sometimes I think my brain opened as far as it could go when I was about seventeen, and its doors have been just stuck there ever since. And now they're ossifying and collecting cobwebs, and things are spilling in, swirling around for a bit, and then flying out again. And someday they'll start to swing slowly shut, and I'll be left in the dark with nothing but a few rustling fragments of thoughts that get thinner and weaker every time I use them. Like tea leaves. And sometimes I think I can do anything.