This book will not make it anywhere. I suppose.

If one of us was brave enough, we’d have closed the book and burned it years ago.

But we aren’t. We continue filling the book with pages and chapters and beautiful photographs of us, of postcards of places we’ve been to and will never be, of lyrical musings and deep, sometimes dark – melodies. Of blank pages that speak volumes, of blanks that show all the tension, of blanks that reveal more than the colorful mumbo-jumbo inside.

Damned is what we are.