Stygian words from the heart of my own darkness like a black hole in the infinite soul otherwise surrounded by brilliant white light. Scratches sculpted on polished onyx.
From nothingness; meaning.
Here come the Longboats, God help me now, save us from the Berserkers. They say they come to trade, but like the scorpion couldn't help stinging the frog the Norsemen can't help pillaging a little.
I will see about a daily entry to this blog. I borrowed some building material I found scattered along the road to hell, broken bits and pieces of good intentions and I used it to build these musings.
Phase one, "in which Doris gets her oats".
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