Conjure a moment in eternity for me. Call it up, and call it perfection, vibrancy, hope. Make it the first time our lips met, or a desperate embrace before a storm, or a parting glance. Call it fluency, disaster, resolution. Call it fire, blood, religion. Call it whatever you wish. My thoughts and dreams will not last forever; one day they'll be nothing but dust like these cities of ours... and on that day, call me a prophet. Call me a splinter, a persona of this beautiful, frantic, faithless, ever-deepening world... or make it simpler and call me just another human who tried to write.