my child, there is something profoundly wrong with your logic. or should i say, with the lack of logic you possess. my child, there is something profoundly wrong with your logic. or should i say, with the lack of logic you possess. ...
i have made a peace, Joanna. i promise to you that i have made my peace. i have made a peace, Joanna. i promise to you that i have made my peace. ...
oh, where do i start? should i take you to Sid Vicious' deathbed, where misery and self destruction was portrayed as a romantic triumph? or to Giovanni's room, where lust and conventional morality collide over a simple dinner on a Tuesday night? or to the very altar of Heraion, where what you were...
between science and superstition, there were questions and desperations; a forecast of better days, a pledge for inevitable ones. you spoke highly of the man in the moon. lowering your voice whenever his name slipped from your tongue. you would slow your step on our way back home from school just to get more...
