I don't know about "always keep them guessing." I prefer "always keep them discovering."
The afternoon sun hitting the television so hard that I can barely make out what's onscreen is the world's welcome reminder that I should be outside.
Few things lull me into a trance like air-conditioning in February.
I know when I'm circling a truth because my breathing becomes shallow.
It's not real just because you've given it a name. It's real when it does what its name says.
We are the evidence of what we are.
It's one of those neutrally buoyant Los Angeles afternoons where the air is the temperature of my thoughts and I'm not sure if the world's the dream or I'm the dream.