I have thought far too long about many of my predicaments. There is danger in getting locked in one’s own mind for such lengths of time. I have never been one to go into a battle unprepared, no, though I am afraid I have been preparing alone for a job for several. I am afraid I have let emotions take too strong a hold of me.
I fear I have little positive to say today, dear London. I have been fighting with myself for too long. Tugging and pushing and pulling in all the wrong directions. Overthought my place into paranoia; all that’s left is a straight jacket to match my inane grin.
So many things come down to the relations we create. Any good spy will tell you that the most valuable asset one can have is a contact. A friend, perhaps. Never make friends with spies. People are so unfortunately complex. Like clockwork that reconnects its gears whenever it feels like it.
Some battles are to be fought with compliance.
My only hope is that there is still warmth to be salvaged.
Art of London
Excerpts from Parabola
by Kimberlea Heili
News of Art, Art of News
Myth Or A Gruesome Reminder – The Tale Of The Drowning Dutchman
Today we commemorate a special legend in the hearts of zailors. Today, the ̷̵̶͠8̡͢͢͝҉8̶̴̸͘th anniversary of a zhip known as The Drowning Dutchman being lost at zee. Captained by one F_________, the Dutchman was a vessel of great renown. With a skilled and loyal crew, a smart and brave captain, surely the fastest in all of Neath, it was a true naval jewel. It had discovered many a treasure and secret, mapped much of the Neath, and brought glory to London.
It is sad to say that its tale does not end well. During what was to become its last and most infamous voyage, the Dutchman was caught in a Storm, much greater than it had survived ever before. This was, indeed, the last we have heard of it – none of the crew had made it out alive to tell the tale.
Still, legends persist. Reports and rumours of a ghostly zhip have spread through the ranks of zailors. Crew with hollow eyes, a captain with no soul. A vessel followed by mist and storm. All shall fear this vessel, they say, as all should, and never to follow, but turn ‘round and flee at first sight.
Such are the tales of the Dutchman, if one is to believe the tales, of course. Though much bizarre is to be found within the Neath, a healthy dose of skepticism never hurts.
However, be the tales truth or tosh, they serve as a reminder to all zailors, a reminder that it is not wise to challenge the Neath’s treacherous waters, and especially its Storms. It is a reminder for all that nature is not to be meddled with.
It is a reminder to us, dear London, that a good story persists.
Ask Mother Goose
Dear Mother Goose,
Why, why, why, when, why, how?
I am afraid we are alone in such ponders.