A Man Who Casts No Shadow Isn't

Change Isn't Always Comfortable, But It Is A Fact Of Life.

Nat Parson Says It's The Devil's Mark." "nat Parson's A Gobshite." Maddy Was Torn Between A Natural Feeling Of Sacrilege And A Deep Admiration Of Anyone Who Dared Call A Parson 'gobshite.

And So Nat Stood Up And Joined The Group, And Followed, And Watched, And Awaited His Chance As The Light Of Chaos Lit The Plain And Gods And Demons Marched To War.

Wine Talks; Ask Anyone. The Oracle At The Street Corner; The Uninvited Guest At The Wedding Feast; The Holy Fool. It Ventriloquizes. It Has A Million Voices. It Unleashes The Tongue, Teasing Out Secrets You Never Meant To Tell, Secrets You Never Even Knew. It Shouts, Rants, Whispers. It Speaks Of Great Plans, Tragic Loves, And Terrible Betrayals. It Screams With Laughter. It Chuckles Softly To Itself. It Weeps In Front Of Its Own Reflection. It Revives Summers Long Past And Memories Best Forgotten. Every Bottle A Whiff Of Other Times, Other Places, Everyone...a Humble Miracle

I'm Phobic About The Idea Of Being Constrained.