Nostalgia, The Vice Of The Aged.

He Was A Lovely Man In Many Ways. But He Kept On Insisting On Forgiving Me When There Was Nothing To Forgive.

Though I Still Turn Up My Coat-collar In A Lonely Way And Am Always Looking At Myself In Mirrors, They’re Only Habits And Give No Clue At All To My Character, Whatever That Is. The Most Difficult Performance In The World Is Acting Naturally Isn’t It? Everything Else Is Artful.

She Stands And Moves Within The Invisible Pentacle Of Her Own Virginity. She Is An Unbroken Egg: She Is A Sealed Vessel; She Has Inside Her A Magic Space The Entrance To Which Is Shut Tight With A Plug Of Membrane; She Is A Closed System; She Does Not Know How To Shiver.

Not Many People Can Boast A Photo Of Their Grandmother Posing For Kiddiporn.

With That, The Poignant Charm Vanished. Inside The Fifth Machine, All Was Rampant Malignity. Deformed Flowers Thrust Monstrous Horned Tusks And Trumpets Ending In Blaring Teeth Through The Crimson Walls, Rending Them; The Ravenous Garden Slavered Over Its Prey And Every Brick Was Shown In The Act Of Falling. Amid The Violence Of This Transformation, The Oblivion Of The Embrace Went On. The Awakened Girl, In All Her Youthful Loveliness, Still Clasped In The Arms Of A Lover From Whom All The Flesh Had Fallen. He Was A Grinning Skeleton.