Rainy Day on a Bus to New York Fragment

Some of it is too much to explain. Some of it is too beautiful to photograph. Some of it can't be felt more than once. Some of it can only be felt by one. Some of it hurts too much to put away. Some of it doesn't mean anything to anyone but you. Some of it falls apart before you can show anyone what you made. Some of it is better after it's broken. Some of it seems meant to be something it may not ever be. Some of it turns out better than you wanted.