I wanted to meet the monster.

Why go down if you can go up?

Fireworks. Snowflakes.
Sunstroke and frostbite.

It was all that I could ask for and completely unexpected.

I expected demands.
He gifted me with tenderness.

I expected ego.
He let me experiment.

I expected disrespect.
He called me beautiful.

I expected him to expect perfection.
He taught me all I needed to know.

Every time I draw a clean breath, I'm like a fish out of water.

Two choices; one: tough it oot, back in the room, two: phone that cunt Forrester and go tae Muirhoose, get fucked aboot and ripped oaf wi some crap gear. Nae contest.

In twenty minutes it wis: — Muirhoose pal? tae the driver oan the 32 bus and quiveringly stickin ma forty-five pence intae the the box.

Any port in a storm, and it’s raging in here behind ma face.

Devoid of any survival instinct, they're all truly running towards their very own apocalypse. Very sad, mostly because they all seem so blindly ecstatic on the way there. Some will manage to flee this doctrine, those doomed to face the music. And that melody never leaves them... Sadly, this may be the only reason they never return to their tragic culture.

Imagine this:
Ice is coming to YOUR house.
Can you HEAR it knocking?
Are you ready?
What will YOU do?