social interaction. dialogue. conversation. there's all these people and there's an exchange but do i really know them at all or is the act of 'knowing' just a construed perception of the other person

the city is asleep. the city. something made by man. what is man? something created by God? Man is something created by man?

Man from birth. Something made from sex. Intimacy. Making love. Are we really intimate or it is just a primitive prerogative designed to make us copulate preserving man, to make more man?

in the city, there's much to see one for every window all leading lives all different ones

flowers. many of the same thing many things i dont want.

myself do i like myself? what does it mean to love oneself is it enough that i at least know what i dont want is it ok to want? am i allowed to desire? am i allowed to seek? am i allowed to yearn?

who am i? this is me who am i? who am i? who am i? i am myself. this object is myself. the shape that forms myself. this is the me that can be seen. but i sense that i am not me. i feel my shell continuously melt away. my skin is shedding. like i wake up everyday and i only see a stranger in front of my mirror. i sense there is someone that is not me. is someone there beyond here? the sky is always out there i stretch my fingers i attempt to touch. i attempt to connect. it's there tangible at the same time it isn't