Face of old stone, flesh petrified by time and depravity. Dorien was but a pup compared to him, and unlike Dorien the portrait was done in his own hand. These are my pigments, mixed by my brush. In the end, I hung myself.
STRANGE SPANNERS being an accounting of strangeness of the warp and woof of my mind For those of you new here, think of this as 1/2 "Night Gallery" Our Motto: Nos somnium quisnam es futurus fatum quod insolitus tutus vos!
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