beautiful insane, in the rain.

We die to each other daily.
What we know of other people
Is only our memory of the moments
During which we knew them. And they have changed since then.
To pretend that they and we are the same
Is a useful and convenient social convention
Which must sometimes broken. We must also remember
That at every meeting we are meeting a stranger.

— T.S. Eliot, The Cocktail Party (via bookmania)


"People of color" "white people" "Hispanic people" "native people"

We’re all just a sorry mix of categorization, and where’s the humanity in that?