It is a world where nothing is lost, where all is accounted for and yet the mystery of things is preserved; a world where they may live, however briefly, however tenuously, in the failing evening of the self, solitary and yet together somehow here in this place, dying as they may be and yet fixed forever in a luminous, unending instant.

Fools may talk of Mythridate, Cordials, Elixers...

I effing hate snow!

My trickſey Spirit.