Time is the Fire in which we Burn

Solstice! The 12 Noon of the year, and occasion to contemplate the remorseless sidereal gears that grind us.

momento mori

This osseus dome, once arched nobly over the seat of one man’s reason, now reduced by time to the state of a broken cathedral, abandoned, cast in plastic and sold over the counter at Puzzle Zoo.

Sic transit gloria mundi.

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Bill became odd after surviving a long series of mentally destabilizing encounters with Numinous Memetic Entities. He likes to curse, and considers evocative vulgarity to be the last remaining genuine form of poetry left to the human heart.

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