Electricity, The Peril The Wind Sings To

I Have Discovered That My Freedom Is Within Me, And Nothing Can Destroy It.

Everything Is Always A Story, But The Loveliest Ones Are Those That Get Written And Are Not Torn Up And Are Taken To A Friend As Payment For Listening, For Putting A Wise Keyhole To The Ear Of My Mind

The Strain Of Constant Adaptation To So Many Fearful Events And Discoveries Is Already Too Much To Bear With Sanity; One Has To Keep Pretending To Slip Successfully Into The New Mould; A Time Will Come When The Tailored And Camouflaged Mind Breaks Beneath The Burden; The Stick Insect In Our Brains No Longer Cares To Resemble A Twig On The Same Habitual Human Tree In The Mere Hope That It May Survive Extinction.

...there Must Be An Inviolate Place Where The Choices And Decisions, However Imperfect, Are The Writer's Own, Where The Decision Must Be As Individual And Solitary As Birth Or Death.

I Don't Wish To Inhabit The Human World Under False Pretences.