Everybody's got a secret Sonny, Something that they just can't face. Some folks spend their whole lives trying to keep it; They carry it with them ev… - Bruce Springsteen

When it rains, the moisture in the humid air blankets our town with the smell of damp coffee grounds wafting in from the Nescafé factory at the town’s eastern edge. I don’t like coffee but I like that smell. It’s comforting; it unites the town in a common sensory experience; it’s good industry, like the roaring rug mill that fills our ears, brings work and signals our town’s vitality. There is a place here — you can hear it, smell it — where people make lives, suffer pain, enjoy small pleasures, play baseball, die, make love, have kids, drink themselves drunk on spring nights and do their best to hold off the demons that seek to destroy us, our homes, our families, our town.

Blind faith in your leaders, or in anything, will get you killed.

At the end of the day, life trumps art... always.