So Long As It Fated, Fate Didn't

We Would Never Call Inexplicable Little Insights Hunches, For Fear Of Drawing The Universe's Attention. But They Happened, And You Knew You Had Been In The Proximity Of One That Had Come Through If You Saw A Detective Kiss His Or Her Fingers And Touch His Or Her Chest Where A Pendant To Warsha, Patron Saint Of Inexplicable Inspirations, Would, Theoretically, Hang.

I Don't Like Allegory.

I'm A Science Fiction And Fantasy Geek.

Part Of The Appeal Of The Fantastic Is Taking Ridiculous Ideas Very Seriously And Pretending They're Not Absurd.

I Think There's Something Quite Interesting About The Almost Tragic Quality Of A Lot Of Overwrought Prose, Because It Has A Much More Self-conscious Awareness Of Its Own Failure To Touch The Real.