She wanted to make her own world, start a revolution from her bedroom. Apartment like Breakfast at Tiffany's, closet full of clothes like Edie Sedgwick. All of her dresses with the tags still on them, wild imagination.

You get up to leave from your side of the bed, it's morning in New York. Summer is coming, and we can feel it. We shift the art we make, the notes become softer, the paintings become pastel.

Books stacked to the ceiling, I'm living in a movie. I think we're superstars, and you're becoming my best friend. You teach me to play music, and I teach you to play dress up.

I know you want to build a world much like my own, we both came here to make things. I don't bother with other people, but you can't get enough of them. You tell me that I shouldn't be so hard on myself, and I agree.

People are afraid of themselves nowadays. The realm of possibility is always expanding, and I try to not let my fears keep me from a revolution. You say I'm a renaissance artist. I've never really swallowed what other people told me - my only passions are books and music.

I'm not attached to anything, I'd just like to spend my life creating.