Hey guys! *tries once again to revive brain, but to no avail* I'd make some sort of sarcastic comment, but my brain refuses to comply. This is what happens when you sleep too much...
Veni. Vidi. Vici.
People are made of places. They carry with them hints of jungles or mountains, a tropic grace or the cool eyes of sea-gazers. -EB
It's like everyone tells a story about themselves inside their own head. Always. All the time. That story makes you what you are. We build ourselves out of that story. — Patrick Rothfuss, The Name of the Wind
