There is no light in the yard, but there´s been a change in the weather. Silently, old walls strive towards the ether. The restless souls, the wardens, they come and they creep, striving to rob my own kind of their sleep. I am driven, drifting, directed astray, by the ghouls, the gnomes, those who vanish by day. Until the bleak morning breaks I am condemned to abide in my head, the haunted house, where the phantasm reigns.
October (when I first thought about heads as houses)
The sun will never raise Winter is dominating Darkness is accused The world of MONSTERS The story of the girl Her imagination The moon has no light Spring will never come Creep, Cry, This world is grey
She learned to forget. She lingered in her heedless silence without the reverberation of a comforting echo. She spread her resigned smile across the mouldering canopy, touched the sun-kissed treetops that lined up in the background like green fortress walls. And she went where he had disappeared to.