Still waters run deep, apparently...
Too much coffee, not enough sleep, too much tea, not enough art, too much reading, not enough writing, too many things to do, not enough time, too many thoughts, far too few results, knuckles often drawn white but always a sincere smile.
I either talk for hours or not at all, its tricky.
I have a Spook, she's lovely.
I wanted to laugh like the others but I found that strange imitation impossible. I took a knife with a sharp steel cutting edge on its blade and i slit my flesh where the lips join. For a moment I believed I had achieved my object. I looked in the mirror at this mouth disfigured by an act of my own will. It was a mistake! The blood flowing from the two wounds prevented me from discerning whether the laugh really was the same as the others.