in this book i read (this bitch stole it and it was a really good book)...there's a passage which i somehow feel is relevent to my mood tonight.
i'm thinking about how faces can be too angular, if there is such a thing as perfect contour...if everyone's as is different...
who cares when every part, the worst is the mundane parts (knees and elbows revealing scars from rollerskating, shoulders with freckles and spots, that coffee stain on your back...), but every part all the same is as famous as elvis exactly where it cannot be....

i can't remember the relevance....but it was really profound in some way. more like guide than period, you know?