This is from a year ago.

It is a world of slate and silver, a world governed by silence and illuminated by the fading gleam of ancient gas lamps. It is a world of mist and of whirlpools of emotions -- fear, sorrow, fury, love. Sun and moon coexist, each singing counter-harmony to the rhythm of life, the world and the everlasting. Crows perch on the upturned limbs of the shadows encircling the lake. A whisper of wind, the sigh of the leaves fluttering over the ground as you pass, making your way down the path.

Welcome to November. Welcome home.

As much fun as I have delving into old notebooks, I will try and post soon.

But we knew the truth, deep down. And the truth was that we never fit in, not once.