This is a story about a boy who had windshield wipers on his eyes, the only person in the world with windshield wipers on his eyes.
How does anyone know anybody? We're all a million things.
Lilac wine is sweet and heady like my love.
Lilac wine I feel unsteady like my love.
- 'Lilac Wine,' Jeff Buckley
Once I was a lover and searched behind your eyes for you
and soon there'll be another to tell you I was just a lie.
But sometimes I wonder just for a while.
Will you ever remember me?
- 'Once I Was,' Tim Buckley
Human emotions are like works of art. They can be forged. They seem just like the original, but they're a forgery.
In an old article of yours I found on the internet, you said: There's something authentic in every forgery. What did you mean? // When simulating another's work the forger can't resist the temptation to put in something of himself. Often it's just a trifle, a detail of no interest. One unsuspected stroke, by which the forger inevitably ends up betraying himself, and revealing his own utterly authentic sensibilities.