Mostly, it's what is unsaid that is important. Our dialogue is like the tip of an iceberg; nine-tenths of the meaning lies beneath the surface. The problem is: how do we learn to read this hidden meaning?
How can I be sure that what I believe is true, is true?
And neither can you.
Even the most honest among us is dishonest. Our lives are lived beneath the surface of the waves.
On this day at foldedspace.org
2005 — Lost What if this low-grade melancholia that's been dogging me for the past year isn't a result of biology or psychology, but a product of memory?
2003 — Raspberry Swirl In which Tori Amos confuses me. In which the weekend is good but exhausting.