Never Believe Your Eyes

I Was A Weird Little Kid. I Was Very Irritable, Bored, Frustrated. I Felt My Imagination Bubbling Inside My Head Without Having Any Way To Express Itself. Given A Crayon And Paper, I Would Not Draw A Train Or A House. I Would Draw These Monsters, Beasts And Demons.

Even Winter — The Hardest Season, The Most Implacable — Dreams, As February Creeps On, Of The Flame That Will Presently Melt It Away. Everything Tires With Time, And Starts To Seek Some Opposition, To Save It From Itself.

I Have The Normal Complement Of Anxieties, Neuroses, Psychoses And Whatever Else - But I'm Absolutely Nothing Special.

Words Are Sexier Than Flesh.

To You Who Have Never Died, May I Say: Welcome To The World!