...where's the skill in being a hero if you were always destined to do it?
A city like London was always going to be a paradox, the best of it so very riddled with the opposite, so Swiss-cheesed with moral holes.
Word spread because word will spread. Stories and secrets fight, stories win, shed new secrets, which new stories fight, and on.
The dead are way more organized than the living.
Any moment called NOW is always full of possibles.
It felt like being a child again, though it was not. Being a child is like nothing. It's only being. Later, when we think about it, we make it into youth.