I have felt cats rubbing their faces against mine and touching my cheek with claws carefully sheathed. These things to me are expressions of love.
I love Wagner but the music I prefer is that of a cat hung up by its tail outside a window and trying to stick to the panes of glass with its claws.
Death makes angels of us all and gives us wings where we had shoulders smooth as ravens claws.
I write entirely to find out what I'm thinking what I'm looking at what I see and what it means. What I want and what I fear.