Our chronic dissatisfaction can be eased when we no longer feel we are living in exile inside of ourselves, and realize we don’t have to live as a persona.
The only map you need is the night sky that is written on the walls of your heart. The only grace you need is the wind within your scream. The only fire you need is the anger rising up from the bellows of your stomach.
The unworthy woman is a force, an energy, a song-line. She'll hurl your into exile, desert, and silence. She'll wrap you up in shitty newspaper, and watch you drift down the river screaming. Ruthless. However, without her, we have this deep yearning for a deeper life. Without her, we're colorless.