Freedom. It is what we all desire. Freedom from chains, freedom from responsibility, freedom from life. It is not easily attainable, as all will attest when asked. Those denying the pain of existence are simply lucky in their current situation. Not even the aristocracy is free from absurdity. Down here, in the Neath, now even the very final release escapes us. Light has made us apart with Death. Is it much to ask for? Would you rather live forever or ever after?
Enjoy life, dear readers. It is what we have, so full of wonders that never deplete. Even in a lifetime, even in ten, there are wonders to be re-discovered, re-experienced. Enjoy the wines, London. Do not let this freedom be taken away. Let not those who rule use you in a way they have for so long. Let not those who claim to want to free you condemn you to darkness. Revolt in your own way, London. Be free again.
The bed upon which I slept in Polythreme was a slave.
Art of London
Letters from the Surface: Part VIII
By Sir Wensleydale of Hardwick
I’d written my works. As I roamed London, I decided to visit Summerset College. Perhaps, eventually, I could be a Professor. Many thought I could become a Poet-Laureate. If so, London would be much better.
My opponent had provided materials to the University, including no less than 35 branded hearts.
I found a rose-petal among the supplies. Interesting.
Watchful has increased to 150- A Focused Brilliance!
Letters from the Surface has increased to 8!
Suspicion is increasing…
You’ve gained 1*Surface-Rose Petal (new total 2)
News of Art, Art of News
Art of Polythreme; Scream it Out Loud
The talking lands of Polythreme are a sight to behold. Shores of a thousand stones, stones of a thousand voices, people of a thousand hearts now only one. It is a harsh landscape, yet one full of soul, of yearning for softness, whose people are born into life sentient and with an inherent insanity of existence. The Clay Men of Polythreme are mournful by nature, and despite many religious types doubting their ownership of a single soul, we at the Gazette are sure they have. This suspicion is based solely and faithfully on the art of Polythreme. Yes, dear readers, we, as many others, have had the opportunity to see the art – hear the poems of the Pirate Poet, observe the statues and statuettes of the Clay sculptors, so dynamic you would swear they are alive, behold the screaming stanzas of zee-faring epics written upon equally screaming parchment.
The art of Polythreme is every bit searching for meaning. It is the pinnacle of existentialism. The search for meaning is never ending, in any living being. We wholeheartedly love and recommend this art. Make sure you prepare enough napkins for the tears.
Ask Mother Goose
Dear Mother Goose,
Where to help those in need without feeling a sinner while not helping the random stranger?
To help is ennobling. Charity work is the way for the gentler folk in privilege. Do not look for how – simply look at the act itself. Help whenever possible.