The inconvenience of time has burdened death upon my shoulders, or shall I treat this as respite? There are a  million stories running wreckless, drawn to Old Hat's tree. I drift away and into clouds and out, I bless all tales untold, and only wish that our corners would remain in darkness.The world is upside down and back to front and the wrong way round,  may it always so remain.

                     Yours Forever and Sincerely,

                                                         Hetariat March