{{Index
{{Archives
{{Profile
{{Notes
{{Guestbook
{{E-mail
{{Design
{{Host
!
::5:27 pm::24.10.03::

Cold. So cold. So cold... the leaves have not yet turned, and yet soon they will die under the onslaught of devastation. Snow; glittering and beautiful, the embodiment of my birth, freezing the world in stasis until the morn. Blankets cannot quell the terror, the cold and the desperation...

But I don't have cancer.


Last ~ Next