To a wooden heart, warmed only by a blanket of sooty sordes, arrives an offering of brilliant bliss.

Welcome to our gynecocracy, where we sit in open circles instead of at heads of tables and where visions are pursued with chromatic care rather than absolute acrimony.

Happy Bun-nana Day! ; D

She was asked to pose stoically, just like all the others, but in spite of the warmthful backdrop, her icy gaze was so intense, I half expected cranreuch to start forming on her coat as well.

Window as frisket, rug as sheet, and strings to press—but, still, no amount of light can mask the pain felt inside this chest.