I Read My Books Out Loud To

Mercy Watson Was A Character That Had Been In My Head For A Long Time.

Love, As We Have Already Discussed, Is A Powerful, Wonderful, Ridiculous Thing, Capable Of Moving Mountains. And Spools Of Thread.

There Are Those Hearts, Reader, That Never Mend Again Once They Are Broken. Or If They Do Mend, They Heal Themselves In A Crooked And Lopsided Way, As If Sewn Together By A Careless Craftsman. Such Was The Fate Of Chiaroscuro. His Heart Was Broken. Picking Up The Spoon And Placing It On His Head, Speaking Of Revenge, These Things Helped Him To Put His Heart Together Again. But It Was, Alas, Put Together Wrong.

I Am Just Always, Always Paying Attention - Waiting For The Words, Or Image, Or Name That Will Be The Beginning Of A Story.

Things Are Not At All What They Seem To Be: Oh No, Not At All.