When The Lies Are All Told And

And The Dreams So Rich In Color. How Else Would Death Call You? Waking In The Cold Dawn It All Turned To Ash Instantly. Like Certain Ancient Frescoes Entombed For Centuries Suddenly Exposed To The Day.

Nobody Wants To Be Here And Nobody Wants To Leave.

The World Is Quite Ruthless In Selecting Between The Dream And The Reality, Even Where We Will Not.

Each The Others World Entire.

See The Child. He Is Pale And Thin, He Wears A Thin And Ragged Linen Shirt. He Stokes The Scullery Fire.