What does the violent heart of revolution feel like? As the anger and hatred glow white hot is there a language its players use to speak to one another? And what becomes of the gun toting authorities when their fiefdom is destroyed, nobody is any longer afraid, and all things are ablaze? Just some...
White winter blizzard covers everything. We can rely now only on saints, on our prayers. The future has sailed away, with us left behind. Astray, we did not board the magic ship. The task at hand is simple — not to perish in the fog, not to die from the cold, not to get trapped under the ice. Not...
