Virtues, categorical imperatives and welfare maximisation.

"Ah ha," she stood up and pointed. "You are a purveyor of truth, a pop ballad lover, a brooder, a philosophical gardener, a pensive starer."

"And you are one to prefer dialogue over literary diatribe. Speak, educated, bespectacled, tattooed marvel: your shining, searching eyes light up this room." The gaze was matched.

"Mistaken are you, for I may be passionate but I lack true wisdom and conviction; perhaps a byproduct of my conservative upbringing, love of vegetable soup and predominant left-handedness. A drink, what say you?"

"Must we speak in this brash and flirtatious manner, stealing into one another's true nature only in minute sips? Discovery is surely better served in collegiality and without pretension, perhaps dressed in soulful jazz and icing sugar."

"It is settled - bring forth your heart, your ancestry, your cultural imagination and sympathise with me as I reminisce on times of strawberries, devoid of economics."

"You are surely an angel."

Read. Write. Draw. Sing. Think. 替え玉.

The Musée d'Orsay, that's where we should meet. I went in there one day and had a look at our civilisation's treasures, yet couldn't fathom exactly what I was looking for; it was as if my own humanity could not connect with culture or circumstance. I raised a hand, grabbed a pencil and sketched and wrote in my notebook, alternating my attention between treasure and my own interpretation of life on a page. The realisation that my inner world would never fully overlap with the great hands and minds of the past and present frightens me, but I refuse to let this completely flatten my existence into an absurdity devout of lightness and colour.

The world is too small for the mind, the world is too big for the hands.

Age and lack of haste provides reassurance.

We can see into her soul when she doesn't realise she is being looked it.

Slenderness is overstated.

The stillness of the night, I sometimes miss thee: the endless possibilities, the imagination, the timelessness, the pure and beautiful silence.

Simple melodies, organic soybean instruments, soulful sultry voices, thoughtful lyrics.

I'm not sure what it's like not to be conscious. I hope one day not to fear this, but I don't suppose I will ever understand it.

Evolution of a story.

Most important.

• Family, friends, reading, writing, music, running.

If I was given the opportunity to speak to every single person in the world.

• Chill out, slow down, be happy
• Live for others
• Breathe deeply and know your inner spirit
• Sometimes just sit and observe the world
• Only have and do what is absolutely necessary
• Love as much as possible

Working backwards, in progress.

• Helper/listener – selfless, kind, present
• Treads lightly – simple, vegetarian, minimal possessions, in touch with the flow of the world
• Happy – peaceful, optimistic, romantic, compassionate, grateful, healthy
• Writer/thinker – aware, mindful, slow, spiritual, open, questioning

Inequality.

When the time comes for you to make a decision, meditate on peace, happiness, truth, beauty; follow your brain, follow your heart, follow your soul, for whatever choice you make will be the right one, the only one.

Living simply, humbly and within our means. Valuing meaningful relationships. Working not for money but to help humanity. Thinking about knowledge. Treading lightly. Feeling compassionate. Being grateful for circumstance and society. Giving without taking. Creating beauty. Being the change we want to see rather than just consuming. Loving as much as we can. Laughing. Discovering ourselves and appreciating the universe. Sitting still and running far.

Gross, net, close, knit. Greenery, flannery, chicanery, love very.

Stormy weather, give me a window and a cup of oolong.

Always less salt, less sugar, less preservatives, less meat and animal products, less fat.

What exactly do they do over there on the moon?

There is so much art in all of us, waiting to be splayed out into the world, and to improve the lives of someone, somewhere in some way. 

Quinoa, papita, kale, barley, spinach, butternut pumpkin, broccolini, arugula, blueberries, chia seeds, eggplant, rockmelon, mango, unhomogenised milk, parsnip, baby carrot, zucchini, beetroot, red cabbage, shitake, black turtle beans, bokchoy, spring onion, avocado, multigrain bread, cinnamon, paprika, turmeric, natural yoghurt, cucumber, cherry tomato, pearl cous x2, brown rice, pineapple, wholemeal pasta, chickpeas, tofu, raw nuts, tahini, tamarind, oats, sultanas, fennel, enoki, love and laughter.

I am glad to hear your voice, its absence is a pain in my day.

Take me down to Duke's place.

Endless possibilities, rindless baconality.

Vignettes, a string vibrating explains all existence, as do vivacious violins.

Take the time for yourself, pick whatever it is you enjoy doing and smile that it is even remotely possible in the first place.

I see clouds; hope, beauty, truth, peace, benevolence, compassion, kindness, love, happiness and most importantly, fluffiness.

He sees the chair, feels a sense of foreboding, but decides not to sit but instead to move cities and sit in the chairs there, they're comfortable over there, he thinks, one can really make a life sitting in those chairs.

Start - grow a bit - read - play - love - laugh - teach - smile.

To be so hopeful, and to be down and less hopeful.
We may be seeing the same thing, but we are creating very different realities.

Now is happening right now, so many people so many stories.

I love the clouds of my city, they hide what needs to be hidden and reveal only what is important or pretty. They have a mind of their own, and no matter what the Bureau try, they're here to stay. Even as one emerges from the subway, she can appear as invisible as any phantom but nowhere near as elusive. Don't trust them, I was always told. Thankfully, the clouds have been my friend. I've heard those who are frustrated by it all and they are the reason for the Panel attemping those crazy vacuum tests. Sometimes, I wish I could see why they are so hostile towards our lovely clouds, just to understand their hatred, but now I've largely made peace with it all. I walk up the steps, the clouds envelope me in an instant and I feel safe. Now, what to do today? How do I want to influence, can I still teach others to teach?

Generosity, possibility and the city.

Who am I but a travel writer who neither travels nor writes?

Locomotion location spins procreation promotion.

Half a globe away feels like no distance at all because of that magic capsule we sit in for 20 hours.

One discovers a lot about himself whilst travelling. 

Sunny sixpence schedule, giant floor-to-ceiling spreadsheets. It's almost as if my mind couldn't fathom standard chord or word progression expression. Unusual sublime slime slithered down my blimp, and I have a gumboot of a dream, swinging around my head, disallowing hedgehog clarity yet engulfing my innermost hopes and strings.

The feeling of standing in line is close to the frustration of defeat.

A chicken sandwich can be the cause of much stress at an airport.

There is a strange world just in between sleep and consciousness, a drowsy, dreamy, somewhat painful plane, where reality struggles against uncontrolled fantasy. One sometimes sees and hears, yet rational decision making is missing.

Convenience means waste.

The mind will remember certain threads of thought if you actively try to make a note of it at the time. Although, forgetting is unforgiving, and we'll never know what we forget.

Switch trickery, flickering lights. 

Waking up at 3am is much like doing so at 4am or 5am, but any earlier is closer to not having slept at all.
What shall I dream about tonight?
We all expect a tomorrow, do we not?

When one feels loved, he is invincible. 
Love is conversation, a milkshake serenade.

初めに.

The world does not slow down for such petty grievances, yet we cannot become complacent and expect the sun to rise in the east tomorrow and once again trickle in the belief that I had fallen asleep on the sun the previous night.

It is astonishing is it not, that I am able to control my own breathing.

Look forward my dear friends and smile.

Thinking.

She wondered if what she thought and the way she thought it was the only manner in which one could possibly think, and if this was not the case how could she understand another's way of thinking, and if this was not ever possible, even eons into the future, there really was no real way of thinking about how another soul experiences life; she also thought it was sad there were those out there trying their utmost to impose their will unto others without contemplating this simple truth, but also wondered if she herself has fallen into this trap by thinking what she does.

Grandiose.

I am grateful.

So much has changed; thoughts no longer align, emotions have evolved, the world is no longer as it once was and neither are we.
I look back and I look forward, and realise that there is only now.