Living Skies, like most non-microscopic living things (yes, even capybaras) occasionally feel ungovernable rage.
They Live!
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Dirck
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. View all posts by Dirck
Dirck de Lint's Missives from the Living Skies 