You Like It Darker

Great thanks to you, dear readers, for allowing me to inhabit your imaginations and your nerve-endings. You like it darker? Fine. So do I, and that makes me your soul brother.

scars become beauty marks when there is love.

Storytelling has entertained me and others over a number of years, and that makes me happy.

There were scars, but not disfiguring ones, and what were scars, after all, but wounds that had healed?

Gravity is greedy for the dead and wants them in the ground.

Ten hours of thoughtless imageless darkness. It’s what being dead must be like.

It isn’t just grief that leaves scars. Terror does, too.

A group of lawyers is an eloquence; a group of rattlesnakes is a rhumba.

Time always has a tale to tell, wouldn’t you say?

Love and hate are also twins.