... and I realize the only way to tell the others is through the way my voice can take these broken word sand turn it into music. Turn it into poetry. And I sing to make myself come alive, but also for you, because I’d like this to mean something. To not disappear with the dark I will enter one day and so now I will tell. If not for you, then for my own heart, because it tells me to, and I'm learning to listen.

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