Truthsayers
Ahh... what a great feeling it is to return to this place. Time and negligence has rendered it barren and cold, but even in these wicked times, a master is not denied a walk in his dying domains.
As I said to the man who goes by no name, and yet exists in dozens: "The soul's journey is indeed one, which we cannot foresee or tame; the soul must walk its own path and sing in tongues, new to its master's ear."
Whatever right.
I shan't bore you to death with thoughts too sensitive to be spoken clearly, for there is in fact no clear way to speak of them anyway - I suppose my heathen craving for attention - and in the end conversion - is reason enough.
These words mean nothing - nor does the person writing them, nor the person reading them.
And yet they do - so much.
and so little.
And so at last, when the colours of life have been spilled on the wasteland carpet of grey below, we must consider the single tear: the currency of what could have been, the price of failed dreams
And the only thing worth living for...
Tears and artificial laughter - and of course, the utter belief in truth
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