I wrote something for you.

All I can think about are invented comic superheroes with personality defects and stuffed narwhals hanging from ceilings, horns painted chalky white. I want to buy a book and tear it apart. I want to waste my money.

Sleeping on the bus, I could hear through the unstable waves of consciousness each bump and scrape, and felt under my head the bounce and settle of travel, and it lead me to strange places in my mind. It amazes me how many things are you. A color is you, a scramble is you, a collection of grass and sticks and twigs is you. Will we run away someday and have all of our dreams come true?

I'll write these days down and paint them into pages and pages. Someday, they will be a book, and someone will buy them and rip them up.

It sounds like u're making a scrapbook, which happens to be one of my favorite hobbies =) Anyway, I'm back and hope u have a great day.