...and there you have it, another body on the floor surrounded by things that don't mean much to anyone except to the one who can't take any of them along.

And where there is no Echo there is no description of space or love. There is only silence.

You got a death wish, Truant?' Which was the thing that scared me. 'Cause maybe I did.

The thread has snapped. No sound even to mark the breaking let alone the fall. That long anticipated disintegration, when the darkest angel of all, the horror beyond all horrors, sits at last upon my chest, permanently enfolding me in its great covering wings, black as ink, veined in Bees' purple. A creature without a voice. A voice without a name. As immortal as my life. Come here at long last to summon the wind.

Here then at long last is my darkness. No cry of light, no glimmer, not even the faintest shard of hope to break free across the hold.

I want something else. I'm not even sure what to call it anymore except I know it feels roomy and it's drenched in sunlight and it's weightless and I know it's not cheap. Probably not even real

Everyone loves the Dream but I kill it.