the phrase i can't be bothered sounds, to me, as if it's accompanied by a feeling of self-importance

как люблю я вас
как боюсь я вас

f's phrase of the week:

[watching tv]
i'm scared.. somebody has to come

everything begins and ends in an instant. your first smile for me was your last and everything since then has been an echo of that smile.. everything since then has been the crease of your eyes, at that moment

i feel that i have the look of an accident survivor..

who am i.. what have i done..

afraid to sleep.. afraid to end this day..

i wonder how many of us, shaped by western media, by upbringing - how many of us reacted to 'operation cast lead' with unease, disbelief, horror; with the re-evaluation of an entire worldview, spurred, now, by the kind of cynicism that could only be borne of violence

i want to write. i want to write more than two words about my grief, my fear, my monstrous discomfort.. but i'm paralyzed.. i'm simply paralyzed for words.

i told myself that i don't care about the silence; i may have even believed it

the pleasure of seeing pages upon pages of handwritten notes, scribbled in inks of different colour..

the sky is trembling
and i must leave

joan baez spoke to me tonight, in her beauty and her grace

for shame, eleanor - since when does 'canadian literature' (itself such an ambiguous characterization) require a canadian landscape?

i didn't expect this level of stupidity