The Problem With Most Genre Fantasy Is

Ever Since I Was Two, I've Loved Octopuses, Monsters, Abandoned Buildings.

A Sickly Little Smile Grew And Died On His Mouth Like A Fungus.

The Problem With Most Genre Fantasy Is That It's Not Nearly Fantastic Enough. It's Escapist, But It Can't Escape.

In The Deepest Places, Where Physical Norms Collapse Under The Crushing Water, Bodies Still Fall Softly Through The Dark, Days After Their Vessels Have Capsized. They Decay On Their Long Journey Down. Nothing Will Hit The Black Sand At The Bottom Of The World But Algae-covered Bones.

London Is An Endless Skirmish Between Angles And Emptiness.