Call me dour and unimaginative even say in foggy vistas that I am numb and thick-skinned but without mendacity I duly hand on heart thus proclaim I just cannot at all relate to these croaky periphrastic fantasies of weak disenchanted ghosts who cursing their opaque transparency in vacuous bland plasma crave sojourn in howling and bawling begging attention and validity excusez moi mon petite les miserables but your fantasies neither resonates nor romanticize in the sublime realities of those who walk on solid terra firma and despite ghostlore do still see themselves in the dark and know to keep things real