ninety-nine nights and here we are, finally at the threshold of the night. But then again we're nocturnal, so I guess we're at the threshold of night and the blazing hot day is finally done. Deep breathes... Between the idea and the reality, between the motion and the action, falls the shadows... T.S. Eliot once spoke that of his Hollow Men and two of my heroes have quoted it since and though I claim no god, it seems like these two ghosts are speaking to me through the voice of another. And these are the inversed shadows of the day. And we are walking into the night. | �Repitition of Hatred�Loveless Avenue�Burn Out (and) Fade Away �Plofile�Notes�Host�Archive� |