All The Information I Have About Myself

Let All Of Life Be An Unfettered Howl.

Although I Could Never Get Used To The Constant State Of Anxiety In Which The Guilty, The Great, And The Tenderhearted Live, I Felt I Was Doing My Best In The Way Of Mimicry.

The Nostalgia I Have Been Cherishing All These Years Is A Hypertrophied Sense Of Lost Childhood, Not Sorrow For Lost Banknotes.

You Can Always Count On A Murderer For A Fancy Prose Style.

All Colors Made Me Happy: Even Gray. My Eyes Were Such That Literally They Took Photographs.