Casually writing and casually reading on a casual sunday afternoon in June, How may I help you? Can I help you? Or is it something more than help that you need? Question. Question. Question. Things that I don't even have the answer for. A jam packed mixture of identity and confession, just another Hapa Kolea in search of a booth to release the sins and sighs. What exactly can I say? I'm just writing to write like I'm breathing to live.