A tale of eternal love.
The gods of summer rage against me.
Find yourself in the arts.
As an artist, I am made of life’s influences.
Surely, she’s quite reasonable.
The eternal cycles of nature are a loving relationship.
We can’t hear our screams.
Far across the way.
Oh, Mab, please grant me rest.
My old machine.
I caught a fleeting glimpse of the past. I can’t be sure it was actually there at all.