I, A Late Riser, Fantasise About Getting

And After Awhile Of This My Brain And My Body And Every Single Inch Of Me That Was Alive Was Flooded With The Feeling That I Was Starving, Starving For Edmond. And What A Coincidence, That Was The Feeling I Loved Best In The World.

I Guess There Was A War Going On Somewhere In The World That Night But It Wasn't One That Could Touch Us.

The Real Truth Is That The War Didn't Have Much To Do With It Except That It Provided A Perfect Limbo In Which Two People Who Were Too Young And Too Related Could Start Kissing Without Anything Or Anyone Making Us Stop.

The Facts Of His Existence Are Plain. I Know That He Will Never Silence Those Unspeakable Voices. He Heard How People Killed, And How They Died And Their Voices Infected Him, Coursed Through His Body, Poisoned Him. He Didn't Know How To Turn Off The Noise, Or Turn The Hate Back Out Onto The World Like The Rest Of Us. He Turned It On Himself. You Could See That From The Scars On Him.

If You Have The Patience To Wait And Watch, History Will Reshape Truth (weakest Of All Forces, And Weightless) In The Image Of Opinion. What Really Happened Will Cease To Matter And, Eventually, Cease To Exist.