I Wrote My First Novel

Did I Help You To A Fate You Didn't Want?

It Looked Like An Old Painting, But Real - Everything Achingly Idyllic In The Morning Light - And I Thought About How Wonderfully Strange It Would Be To Live In A Place Where Almost Everything Had Been Built By The Dead.

March 4th, The Only Day That Is Also A Sentence

The Problem Is Not Suffering Itself Or Oblivion Itself But The Depraved Meaninglessness Of These Things, The Absolutely Inhuman Nihilism Of Suffering.

Life Works Best When We Think Of People As People.