The world never stops unmaking what the world never stops making. But who says the world has to make sense?
One fine day a predatory world shall consume itself.
Sometimes the fluffy bunny of incredulity zooms around the bend so rapidly that the greyhound of language is left, agog, in the starting cage.
I often lose myself in the Sudoku-like challenges of making a book work.
Lunatics are writers whose works write them.
War's an auction where whoever can pay the most in damage and still be standing wins.