Oh, come along, reader of the High Journal; if you do not love words, how will you love the communication? How will you forgive me my tropes, communi… - R. A. Lafferty

The thing that is called ‘mainstream fiction’ is an invalid masquerade of the world. It wears masks identical to the faces under the masks; it wears costumes identical to the clothes under the costumes; it enclosed the ‘world sets’ in ‘theatrical sets’ of the same appearance. What kind of masquerade is that which does not mask?

Ch. 5 : Muerte De Boscaje

His soaring vaunt escaped the blooming ears of us, He's gone, he's dead, he's dirt, he disappears from us! Be this the death of highest thrust of human all? The flaming end of bright and shining crewmen all? Destroyed? His road is run? It's but a bend of it; Make no mistake, this only seems