it's the illusion of permanence, i think. i mean, they're always flaring up and caving in and going out. but from here, i can pretend. i can pretend that things last. i can pretend that lives last longer than moments. gods come, and gods go. mortals flicker and flash and fade. worlds don't last, and stars and galaxies are transient, fleeting things that twinkle like fireflies and vanish into cold and dust. but i can pretend.
av neil gaiman (brief lives)
ps: jeg klarer ikke late som. jeg klarer ikke stenge sannheten ute. den knuser meg daglig.