Costumes. Gray Areas.
Whatever happened before, isn't happening now.
Now changes all of time.
I'd rather be enclosed in a shining prism, contained in a glittering world.
She lies, lies to me.
It is graveyard, deeply tucked into wooded landscape.
The air stays in the same place.
There is a dangling fog here and there, barely enough to be lost in, but it clouds her judgement all the same.
Nothing living ever walks around here.
There isn't any point, really.
I wish I would finally say what I mean in a plain and obvious way. I can, but I won't.
This feels like lying. I would very much like to tie all of the little pieces together and then there would be a nice little completed structure. It is all there, the reader needs to connect the dots.... I won't do it myself, it would be giving too much away at once, and I don't have much of anything left, for anyone.