Midnight musings, fleeting fantasies and melting memories. Inkstained images, wandering waters and unspoken undercurrents. Slivers of song, darting dances and patches of paint. Falling flames, minutes of madness and avalanches of angst. Strokes of sky, rumbles of rain and whispers of wind. And a hundred other blurred-bordered, intricate things crossed paths and touched hands here to form something a bit more definite: Poetry Here lie fragments of story-telling.