We Gifted Children The Freedom Machine
What exactly did we expect? A generation of miniature philosophers?
Human Nature
Stuffed. Mounted. Dead behind the eyes.
Pressure Is A Privilege
Love is proved when the waters turn ugly and someone must keep watch through the night. Without her, I am nothing.
The Hour I Chose
I carry the dead behind me, and the living who still need me upright.
The HOUSE That HELD The BLOOD
The music of the wind. The beat of the ground. The dead sitting among roses, watching the living dance.
The Collapse of Discernment
Now the mob need not gather in a square. It refreshes.