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The sound of crackling as you stumble amongst the brambular undergrowth is as pleasant as the snapping of a well-worn bonfire. You stop at the foot of a gargantuan tree, which stands impassively, spreading its barren, aged limbs around the exhuberant sunlight like an adoring grandparent's fingers around a child's hand. You feel a slight warmth on your upturned face, and you know that wherever you are, you've come to the right place. |
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all about me |
my queries |
silly web finds |
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scalia worship |
the labyrinth |
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