“I never liked flying,” she said, she says, “you have to accept that death is a possibility once you buckle up.”Grim, what is this place, anyways? Golds and reds dance all around as higher and higher we climb until the clouds lay beside us.
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The Beast Pageant
(Here’s an old article I’m quite fond of about some old chums out doing what they’re doing.) Originally published July 17, 2010. Words spoken in a dream tend to fade as a day progresses, to be lost in the clutter of the subconscious, waiting to emerge in a moment of eccentricity. Sometimes, though, those words … Read More
On Memory and Cinnamon
Cinnamon was a favorite of mine. I suppose it still is, but it is more of a bitter-sweet addition now.10 years, has it been? I was paid to be a baker about a decade ago. Baking has been an interest of mine since I was allowed in the kitchen. And still is presently as kitchen … Read More