People Come To New York To Be

The Desert Adapts. The People Adapt. Live. Die. Struggle. Suffer. Create. The People In The Real World Beyond Demesne's Ring Are Not All Manufactured Perfection. They Deal.

This Must Be Part Of Mother Nature's Master Plan—making These Boys So Irresistibly Cute, In Such A Naughty Way, That The Purity Of Their Intentions Becomes Irrelevant.

We're Better Off. But I Don't Know If The World's Better Off. I Don't Know If The Two Are The Same Thing.

So Much Is Happening And Yet Nothing At All.

Wow. I Feel Like In This Riot Of People, I Have Been Kicked In The Stomach, But By The Giddy Police. Forget About The Need For Oxygen. My Mouth Wants To Go Back To The Place It Just Left.