the end of an era, or perhaps the beginning of one. it is difficult to tell with these things. the end of something, that is for certain, though all things must come to an end and all little girls are wicked beasts and the faint clink of thin fingers, cold fingers, bone fingers on the glass of something strong were to be heard and all that could be heard and all that was permitted to be heard. and the one devoted reader amongst friends less committed than you and it just wasn't fun, the end or maybe the beginning. it was confusing and made my brain spin but it was undeniably good, so very different than it was before and that wasn't necessarily a bad thing, as these things are often shades of something completely different from black or white, like perhaps red. or orange.
