We Are All Eaters Of Souls.

The Future Is Like Smoke From A Burning Forest, Waiting For The Wind Of Specific Events And Personal Courage To Blow The Sparks And Embers Of Reality This Way Or That.

I Think All The Simple Things Can And Do Still Work - Holding Your Child's Hand While Walking Across The Street Will Do It. But We Can Hardly Hear It For All The Noise Which Has Turned Love Into A Cliche, And Most People Can't Even Hear John Lennon's "all You Need Is Love" Anymore Without Wincing.

The Powerful Have Received Their Share Of The World's Attention Even When Their Power Has Been Shown As Sheer Evil. The Victim's Remain The Faceless Masses. Numbers. Mass Graves. These Monsters Have Fertilized Our Century With The Mass Graves Of Their Victims And It Is Time That The Powerless Had Names And Faces -- And Voices.

Mystery. The Strangeness Of Place So Necessary To Some Creative Spirits. A Perfect Mixture Of The Classical Utopia And The Pagan Mystery.

It No Longer Matters Who Consider Themselves The Masters Of Events. Events No Longer Obey Their Masters.