the establishment cries in icelandic, Your Soul Has No Arms, and so on and so forth.
The river flows calmly, meandering through the prairies and fields of another realm. On its bank sits a white wolf. It has no eyes, but it looks to the moon. There is not one moon, but seven. The eyeless white wolf howls, and the seven moons howl back.
everything from here to there is f a d i n g
Hark! Time moves backwards.
it is not the beast we see that we fear. it is the beast we will become that we fear. panish
» Weird stock photos » Electro-swing music » Eastern philosophy » Confusing people with writing
What is an occupation, if not a shackle that restrains us to an archetype? I build my identity not on what I do, but rather on what I do not do. So unemployed, basically.