"Sometimes at dusk, when you were trying to relax and not think of the general stagnation, the Garbage God would gather a handful of those choked-off morning hopes and dangle them somewhere just out of reach; they would hang in the breeze and make a sound like delicate glass bells, reminding you of something you never quite got hold of, and never would."
-The Rum Diary
Trying new things. Like rooftops, weird coloured skies, lights, skinny young men in black suits and short girls in dresses.
No, really, I quite like this.
