In my world, Power has been restored.

But I am a sad thing, unable to concentrate on the schoolwork I ought to be doing, and everything else races and rushes me-first wise to become so much typed matter.

I am no great one, myself, but here I am.

Last night nestled on sweet-bony elbows and tossed and turned with thoughts of dragons, then dreamed of spiderwebs like sausage casings all over me, and huge poison wounds from a huge brown spider, whose back bore angry red slashes like eyes or hourglasses.

I thought they were supposed to be black, such creatures.

<<agé chose>>

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