The Future Can Ever Promise But One

I Love You Still, But With Your Death I Succumbed To A Kind Of Infatuation. I Convinced Myself That What You And I Had, So Very Briefly, Was Of Far Vaster And Deeper Import Than It Truly Was. Of All The Weapons We Chose To Turn Upon Ourselves, Guilt Is The Sharpest, Silverfox. It Can Carve One's Own Past Into Unrecognizable Shapes, False Memories Leading To Beliefs That Sow All Kinds Of Obsessions.

A Story Invites Both Writer And Reader Into A Kind Of Superficial Ease: We Want To Slide Along, Pleasingly Entertained, Lost In The Fictional Dream.

A Celebration Of Insignificance, Is That All We Are In The End? And One Day I’ll Just Be One More Of Those Faces, Frozen In Death And Wonder

The Harder The World, The Fiercer The Honour.

Ah, Meese Has Brought Us Her Finest Goblets! A Moment, Whilst Kruppe Sweeps Out Cobwebs, Insect Husks And Other Assorted Proofs Of Said Goblets' Treasured Value.