Whitby.

And when the sun is low
And the rays high
I can see it now
I can feel it die

 

Forever is Composed of Nows.

 

(Emily Dickinson)

Lonely robot in a wasteland, rusting in the harbor’s water *

I'm not a human if you say I'm not.

'Cause there's a million ways to go, you know that there are.

Cold Hands & Hot Wine.

Let it snow, and let us drink our life away.