Flake

Seems to me the crowded room was more distant than it really was. The moving picture on the wall became the dashboard of our toy car displays. Some days I just feel like an alien, out of touch and sync with the reality - their reality, whoever they are.

Have to be careful. Have to tread softly and gently. There are ears on walls, tapping into our privacy. But isn't it ironic this exhibition of personal visions and thoughts? Ah, that's where we succeed in painting codes on the canvas where only the originator has full access to. This is such a game of deception.

Eyes heavy, enough of this.