Tango mi amor
While we are in the arms of another and the music sings of time, and chance passing, we are in the eye of the storm
One warm line
The life well-lived, the path well-walked, each full of loops and weavings, until a person maps their patch of earth
The dead are no longer welcome at their own funerals. So how can the living send them on their way?
Rules of survival
Mid-air is a bad place, where nightmares happen. Only witches and meteorites belong there. Avoid it or be destroyed