why does Pestilence talk funny?
In my time in the desert I spent an inordinate amount of same (Francis has mentioned this) reading brains. My brothers were kind enough to bring them to me as their owners expired. The brains of great men and women are the sum total of what they never put in their books, their software, their philosophy, their science… as well as bits and pieces of what did get published. Often I wonder if writers do so to get their books out of their heads so that they can forget them. I read them all, cover to cover. So to speak. And there was too a smattering of unknown and unsung gray matter as well from this asylum or that hospital for the criminally insane. Really, who needed any more of human convention? I would gladly have looked anywhere in those days. Considering how this was roughly between the 1760s and the 1940s, I came to assume in my ability to express myself all the bad habits of those more descriptory authors I read. So to speak. Windy? Yes. Very. And my brothers will agree. What can
