I am a Twit.

Just a little ephemeral thing I did that I want to preserve… at least for a while:

A photo of the 2017 White House Christmas tree, under a block of Twitter text which reads: They sat in a hall the colour of a thunderstorm, the yule tree as distant as salvation. "What did you ask Santa for?" "There's only one thing I really want; a boot, stamping on a human face, forever." A knowing grin followed. The best gifts don't fit under the tree.

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Fountain pen fancier and repairer, intermittent intellectual, underfunded anarcho-dandyist, and self-admitted writer of fiction, who's given to frequently wishing everything he wrote of a nonfictional sort was being read aloud by Stephen Fry, and everything else by either Vincent Price or Christopher Lee.

One thought on “I am a Twit.”

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