I Love It When My Books Cause

Happiness. Simple As A Glass Of Chocolate Or Tortuous As The Heart. Bitter. Sweet. Alive.

I'm Insatiably Curious.

The Process Of Giving Is Without Limits.

In My Dreams I Gorge On Chocolates, I Roll In Chocolates, And Their Texture Is Not Brittle But Soft As Flesh, Like A Thousand Mouths On My Body, Devouring Me In Fluttering Small Bites. To Die Beneath Their Tender Gluttony Seems The Culmination Of Every Temptation I Have Ever Known.

This Isn't The First Time The World Has Come To An End, And It Won't Be The Last Either.