Am I making something worthwhile? I’m not sure. I write, and I sing, and I hear words from time to time about my life and choices making ways, into other lives, other hearts, but am I making something worthwhile? I’m not sure. There was a boy last night who I never spoke to because I was too drunk and still shy, but mostly lonely, and I couldn’t find anything lightly to say, so I simply walked away but still wondered what he did with his life because he didn’t even speak to Moor look at debut still made me wonder who he was and I walked away asking Am I'm making something worthwhile? I am not sure. I am a complicated person with a simple life and I am the reason for everything that ever happened to me.

Another Vagabond Lost To Love: Berlin Stories on Leaving & Arriving