Come and flip through these pages, come and look closer, search for what is missing behind the ribcage. Look at the letters growing into each other, scratching the paper to form roller-coaster rides out of my whirlwind thoughts. I am keeping the night captive, binding it with pale branches still pulsing with life. I am making the night dance from top to bottom, from sunset to sunrise, one, two, three, one, two, three. Stop. Turn the page. The story goes on.

Travel on these lonely streets, in the empty hours before the dawn. See behind the black and the white, the statistics and the facts. There is truth in mystery and love grows in the weirdest places.