It Broke The Spell. It's Not That

Bruises Mapped My Body From Bumping Into Tables And Tripping Over Curbs While Walking With A Book In My Hand, My Eyes Focused On The Pages Instead Of The Live Space Around Me.

The Desert Adapts. The People Adapt. Live. Die. Struggle. Suffer. Create. The People In The Real World Beyond Demesne's Ring Are Not All Manufactured Perfection. They Deal.

I Feel Like There's So Much Darkness In All Of My Books.

I'm Thinking I Would Like To Dance In The Rain With This Person. I Would Like To Lie Next To Him In The Dark And Watch Him Breathe And Watch Him Sleep And Wonder What He's Dreaming About And Not Get An Inferiority Complex If The Dreams Aren't About Me.

I've Given Him More Mixed Signals Than A Dyslexic Morse Code Operator.