From Neil Gaiman, in a dream

“I think…that I would rather recollect a life mis-spent on fragile things than spent avoiding moral debt.”

A brief moment of inspiration spent away from the worlds of future avoidances, morals all askew and debts unpayable to banks that hold captive the souls of combusted stardust.

In news, Un(en)titled in the final stages.
It’s a Disaster has had a break-through and twenty thousand words later, we are finally what I could call “under way”.
Crazy Sad has been initially tossed to the jury. Verdict as yet unsure.

All these fagile things, I collect and scatter, align and redistribute, in the aim of what?
Mostly, to have known at the given moment that last moment, I was alive.

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