We learned how to care for them. Now we traverse the grooves on the thin side of the coin to get to the other side. I know, I know. We all want to be on the side where oracles are real, and they can make your ridiculous dreams come true. 

We are here to bury gods. Sometimes those gods die in dreams. 

I know. The question's been bugging you. How do you cook a limoset? Well, I'll tell ya. The Pantheon's now infringing on the recipe market. 

We're back from our regularly scheduled Christmas break to bring you fine folks a heaping dose of madness :)

I know. Boring title. We all know what gloves are. I don't like them, personally, even in the cases where they make sense. But if you're here you probably know that the story is only about gloves in the most vague of senses. We all gotta learn, after all. 

Moral of the story: grave-digging bad. Please applaud me for my bravery in spreading this message. 

We thought we could get through. We thought we could be better. But we weren't. Again. 

That doesn't mean we can stop trying, though. If you can understand anything, understand that. 

And finally, a breath of truth. We're all scared. We're all frightened. We all hate these things about ourselves. The only way out is through. Together. 

Mystery means misery. In the infinite possibilities of creation, there is something out there whose greatest desire is to destroy and eat you. Yes, you specifically. Will you cower, then? That's what seems the easiest to do. 

There is so much certainty in sorrow. It is comforting, almost. Pain, misery, all these things can shelter you from chaos. So sometimes you begin to think that they are your friends. 

We would destroy the world, if only it meant saving our own soul. But what is more selfish than the person who believes themselves to be righteous? 

We would do anything for security, even destroy that which we make security for. We must recognize this in ourselves if we are ever to avoid tyranny.