The past is a funny thing. It creeps up and smacks you hard. A drawing from Revelations comes to mind. You hated it. I loved it. You drew it. Sometimes I wish I still had it in my possession. Alas I don’t think I have anything you created anymore. Perhaps I do, I can not

Random Encounters, art, a change of direction of the blog and little green robots

Les Diaboliques She has never looked so good. Hair so perfect, lips red as the blood on the floor. Her eyes enchanting as the soul of Mephistopheles. How I loved her. How I hated her. And how the lust I had caused all this. The pool of red is collecting at the edge as I reach for the door. ——————————————————————————————————————————