Ennui is the echo in us of time tearing itself apart. As it enters the ear, does it come in like broken glass or does it come in like honey? sometimes I edit your stories; like plants; they grow and bloom sometimes I leave reviews if I really like your work or really hate it I don't listen to any kind of music you like I don't subscribe to your popular ideas of what's cool, and I don't really do profiles if you know what I mean |