„Quietly, quietly, breathe. Approaching spring, dancing clouds of night and light and the half light, fragments hidden, inside, looking out. Voices from the sky, but here I am, alone. Simplicity of warm embrace, beautiful stillness, moonbeams. Falling petals, sweet dreams, memories, hope. When it rains, it pours. Rest water, sleep habits. Flocks of birds, soft, whispering stay, and alone again.“ — Andrea Price