Part 1
I ended up buying a house at the edge of this town.... before i knew all the bullshit that was goin' on around here. Got bored and went down to the local sheriff Jack and asked about an opening, Didn't even fill out an application, got the job on the spot. For the first few months it was the usual, speeding tickets, drunk and disorderly, normal shit right? Well... let the fuckery commence....
I had been a deputy for 7 months when one of the local farmers called in and reported he had some animals killed last night and wanted someone to come out to his house. John Nixon was a 60 year old farmer who lived by himself. His wife passed away years ago, but he never remarried and they never had kids. We met one day at the local tackle shop. Me being new in town, he took me to some of the good fishin' spots. The man was a huge military history buff and would always ask about my time in. I thought I knew him personally, so i took the call.
As I rolled up to the gate on his property, I saw John standing at the gate with a shotgun. " Hey john, can I ask why you are standing there with that cannon in your hands?" No response, he just stared at me. "John! put that damn shotgun down!!" I yelled. Its like he snapped to out of a trance. "Mason, i need you to come round the back side of the house to the barn, now!" he snapped.
"OK, OK, let me get outta the car and grab some gear." I said opening the car door. While i was grabbing my gear, John was standing there with his eyes scanning the tree line. "Come on mason! you need to see this!" He said heading towards the back. I closed the trunk and started walking over in his direction.
"So what the hell is going on that's got you walking around here with that damn bazooka?" No response, he just keeps walking and scanning the tree line. We finally got to the back of his house where the barn is. It looked like a horror movie in that pen.
"What the fuck happened here!?!" I said covering my mouth. There were pieces of chickens and goats everywhere, a few pigs looked like they had been filleted. "Its back mason, after all these years" John mumbled. "John what the hell are you talking about? what did this?" I asked.
John took his eyes off the tree line and looked me dead in the face. "Your not from here so you dont know." "Know what man? what are you saying?" I asked getting annoyed now. "Years ago this same thing happened to a few guys I know. All of their livestock had been killed. Not killed and eatin', just killed. It got people 'round here up in arms. Well, a few of us got together and decieded we were gonna look for whatever did it" he said. "What the hell are you telling me john?" I interrupted. "There were four of us. We were young, thought we were bullet proof. We went out into the woods one morning, determined to find the damn thing that had been killing our animals.
Tommy was the first to say something. "Hey, did you guys hear that?". The rest of us didnt hear a thing, so we kept moving. We got about three miles deep into the old pine forest at the edge of town. Will was the next to say something, "WHAT THE FUCK?!" he yelled out while looking down at the mud. We ran over to where he was standing to find him wide eyed. "I dont know what the actual fuck did this, but we..we need to go and I mean right fucking now!!!" he said pointing. This track was huge, at least 14 inches long with huge claws. Gerald spoke up "Let's fuckin' go guys!!".
We started back tracking out of the area, when we were stopped cold in our tracks, we all heard it this time. It was coming from everywhere and nowhere at the same damn time. A sickening, shrieking laugh was coming from all around us. We panicked and starting runnin'. As soon as we did that, whatever was making that noise centered as if right behind us, and it was coming fast, ungodly fast" John said eyeing the remains of a chicken that was torn apart.
"We were about a mile from the trucks when I heard a thud and a scream, when i looked back Gerald wasn't there. Will and tommy were right behind me, terror all over their faces. Tommy pulled his pistol and started shooting backwards. Only one shot rang out before something tackled him and Will. I stopped, raising my rifle, but they had already been torn apart. It was seconds, and they were in shreds" John said.
"Mason, what i saw standing over their shredded bodies has haunted me since then. The fucking thing was nine feet tall, shaped like a man, but not. Its skin, or or scales was a mixture of black and grey and it looked slimy. It looked like a damn bodybuilder with hugh claw like hands. Its head was massive, with what looked like horns coming from the jaw to around the chin. Its eyes, glowed bright green in the middle of the fucking day, and it had a mouth full of fucked up jagged teeth." He said lowering his head.
"I jus.. just stood there, waitng for my turn. This thing paced back and fourth, staring at me, with this creepy damn smile. It looked down at Will and Tommy, then it looked back up at me. My heart almost stopped when it pointed and shook its head at me. It started making that shrieking laugh as it grabbed what was left of my friends in each giant claw and walked off into the woods, still fucking laughing. I fell to my knees as it vanished into the trees."
I stood there, thinking he lost his damn mind. John had stopped talking, he had this way off look in his eyes. "John..., john.., JOHN!!" his eyes snapped back to mine. "So what are you telling me? A nine foot creature with claws killed your friends and animals?!" I half mocked. "Yea.... thats what i'm telling you. Its back for me, i know it." "What makes you think it was this thing you say killed your friends? It could have been coyotes" I asked " I know mason, i heard that same horrible shrieking laugh in the woods behind the barn last night."
Now I’ve heard some real bullshit in my time, especially during my time in the contracting field... But this was the most out there shit I had ever heard.
"Alright, alright... let's just take a big ass step backwards. I need to wrap my head around all of this." I said takin a deep breath. John laid the shotgun down to his side. "I'm telling you the truth mason. i'm too old and tired to lie about shit" he said shrugging. I looked deep into this man’s eyes. When I did, I saw something that told me this was the absolute truth as he knew it. " You haven’t given me any reason to doubt you... but fuck man... this is hard to swallow. I need proof John, that's the way this works." A look of frustration washed over his weathered face.
"Proof?! you want proof huh? follow me" John groaned.
He started walking towards the tress behind the barn. As we got closer to the trees, I started to smell rusty copper. Blood I thought out loud. John raised his shotgun as we walked closer. That damn gun had to be illegal, but this wasn’t the time for that. Him raising that gun made me a lil' uneasy, so I pulled my Glock 9mm out and flipped the safety off.
John owned about 90 acres, most of it unkept. A lot of the land was behind the barn which butted up to a state forest. We took about 12 steps into the wood line when the smell of death hit me like a brick. "I'm taking you to where I heard the noise coming from last night... your PROOF is out there Mason" He said with a slight edge to it.
We walked almost a hundred yards into the woods when john stopped in front of a tree. It looked twisted and warped all the way to its top. I stepped around John and saw huge claw marks cut deep all the way around the base of the tree, it's hard to even call it that. "What the hell is this?" I said looking up. "This is a marker, it's territory starts here" John replied. I looked at john like he was crazy, which at this point I thought he was. "This thing travels throughout these woods. I've found five more of these trees in our town" he said putting a hand on the tree.
"This isn’t telling me anything John, just that you've got a weird ass tree on your property" I said back to him. "Do you hear that?" So we could move this mess forward, I stopped talking and just listened. I hadn't noticed that during our walk into the woods it had got quiet, and I mean not one sound. " What the hell? where did all the animals go?" I asked looking around. "They're scared mason... you should be too. Let's get back to the house."
We turned and started making our way out of the woods. We were damn near the tree line when I heard a snap. I turned around, gun raised to see a black streak dart back deeper into the woods. "What the fuck was that?!" All John said was "we need to leave, now!" We turned and started sprinting the rest of the way out of the woods. I was surprised at how fast john was for an old man. We got all the way back to my patrol car. "I don't know what that was, but I don't think you should stay here tonight John. Pack some stuff and come to my place" I said pointing my gun at the trees. John just let out a sigh as if frustrated and defeated.
"You weren't listenin'. The pine forest, these trees, it’s all connected. I’m talkin’ bout before this area was even inhabited by native peoples. This fucking thing has been around for a very long time. I have been looking into this since that day, I had to find out what it was and if it can be killed" he tried to explain. The whole time john was talking I had my eyes and weapon pointed at the trees. " You can put that down mason, it just wanted you to know it's here" He said.
"John, I to need process this shit. I've never seen or heard anything like this and to be straight with you, I’m at a loss right now" I said opening the trunk. "I get it, I get it. The sheriff jack was a deputy back then. When you see him... tell him I said the dark is here..." And with that, he just turned his back and walked back into his house not saying another word.
I got back in the car and sat there. Looking at the treeline. After a few minutes I went back to the station. I must've walked in with that universal what the fuck look on my face, because Cathy the clerk asked what was wrong with me. I told her I was fine and asked if she had seen the sheriff? "Yeah, he is in the gun cage. Are you sure you’re ok Mason?" She asked again.
"Yeah, I'm good, just need to talk to Jack." I started walking towards the back of the building, when Jack came around the corner. "Hey mason, what's up?" he says walking up to me. "I just got back from John's house." The look on his face completely changed. "He had a bunch of animals killed last night. It looked like a slaughterhouse. He told me to tell you the dark was back?" I told him noticing his reaction.
Jack stiffened up and not saying a word gestured for me to follow him towards the back security door. We headed towards the back and out the door. Jack had stopped to make sure the door was secure then pointed at his truck and said "get in."
After getting in he looked over "I need some coffee" then started the truck up and headed west out of the parking lot towards the coffee shop. He ordered a large black coffee with extra sugar then asked if I wanted one. "I'll take a small black, no sugar." We pulled out and headed east back past the station. We ended up driving towards the edge of the county. "What's going on and why are we heading way the hell out here?" I looked at jack and said.
Jack just took a long sip of his coffee then placed it back in the holder.
After a long breath "You want some answers about what happened at Johns' house... I’m sure he told you about a few other things about this town... well we're gonna go get you some answers" He said looking at a black sedan passing in the opposite direction. "Aight so, like you mason, I’m not from here either. I was a trooper in New York for a few years before I came down here. I resigned after a call to an old couple’s house" He said reaching for his cup. "My partner Jake and I responded to what was thought to be an animal attack. We were the first on the scene, having been a couple miles away lookin' for speeders.
When we rolled up an older woman came running over to the cruiser. She had a panicked look on her face and just kept repeating "they're dead, they're dead!!" We hopped out and sat her in the back of the car then asked what happened. "I...I... came over to talk to gloria and... and I saw the door open. I walked in yelling her and Alan’s name, but they didn't answer... I found them upstairs... it's horrible!!" She said sobbing. Jake and I drew our weapons and started making the move inside. Like the witness said the front door was open, so we moved in. It smelled like sulfur and blood when we entered. We started clearing rooms. The first floor was clear, so we made our way up the steps.
The smell was overpowering now. We cleared the bathroom, and the two smaller rooms were clear also. The door to the master bedroom was slightly opened. I motioned to Jake and we hit the door.... it looked like some movie shit!! I kid you not. Jake turned and went back into the hallway and threw up. I stepped into the room and... listen I had never seen anything like this before" Jack stammered out.
"These two people were in shreds on the bed, they're insides had been yanked out and thrown around the fucking room. After looking at the bodies I noticed these huge claw marks in the wall, I’m talking if Andre the giant had had a Krueger glove. I stepped back out of the room and radioed to dispatch that we needed more units. I walked back to the front door where Jake was standing hunched over looking out of it.
Parked outside were 3 black SUVs and a black sedan. I counted 11 men dressed in black tactical military gear, some with a type of rifle I had never seen before, but you could tell it was large caliber. The rest with SMG weapons. When i looked over towards the patrol car, one of the men had the door opened and was talking to the witness. He saw us and started our way. He was dressed in all black too and carried what looked like a desert eagle in a chest holster.
When he got closer I got a better look at him. He looked to be in his late 40's with salt and pepper colored hair and a big ass scar that ran down the right side of his face. He got about ten feet from the steps "We appreciate the assistance, but you are no longer needed" He said in deep voice. As he is saying this, one of the other guys escorts the witness out of our car and into the back of that sedan.
The guy started walking away from us "Who are you? and what the fuck is going on?" I yelled at him. He turned with a look on his face that you only see in movies then took a few steps towards us. "Your command has been informed and you are to leave now!" He said raising his hand up towards that holstered pistol. Jake looked at me and shook his head "fuck it, let's go, let them deal with that mess upstairs" he said still coughing then started heading towards the car. I followed him down the steps... looking this guy up and down, checking out the vehicles... for anything that might tell me who we were dealing with.
The only thing I saw was on the assholes uniform... there was a patch on his shoulder. It was an all-black diamond with a weird looking black M in the middle on it. The guy stared us down until we were in the car driving away. He had that pistol in his hand and the other men starting moving into the house. Jake and I didn’t say a word until the radio squawked and we were told to head back to the barracks.
When we got there, we were told to report to the troop commander’s office. Commander Thompson was sitting in his office along with a man in a nice 2-piece suit. The man in the suit stood there quietly while Thompson told us that we never responded to any call out to that farmhouse, and that this was the first and only time he would say it. With that, he dismissed us and and we walked out. The shit didn’t sit well with me, and I ended up resigning a few months later.
I came down here and then that shit in the woods happened. I was on the scene, I saw the claw marks. They looked just like the ones in New York, and the same damn trucks showed up with different personnel. I knew just to shut up and walk away, and after making that choice I have had a pretty good career here." he finished grabbing his cup out of the holder.
My brain was in overdrive. I was just about to completely question bomb jack when he said, "We're here." He pulled off onto this overgrown driveway and drove for about a quarter mile. We pulled up to an old two-story house that looked like it was in ruins... but the lights were on. "Where the hell are we?" I asked As the last word of that question left my mouth, the front door of the house opened... standing in the doorway was a old man, dressed in weathered black clothing. Jack leaned over to me "You wanted answers... well.... there they are."

I’ve been in sales in 8 years, sold a total of $3mn in revenue from SMB to Enterprise markets, across many industries with a SaaS product. I am at a point where my pipeline isn’t growing as fast as it used to, my tactics aren’t working, my quota is getting bigger by the year, and management is at its most distant in my career.
I’ve been fired weeks before a commission payout, put on a PIP from bullshit reason, got laid off in 2022 great exit, it’s like every year has a red flag for exiting this career.
Work used to be fun, I used to get excited getting on sales calls (cold or demos), I used to get that high when my customer replied or when that magical DocuSign notification entered my inbox. I recently closed two deals from my new job, not even two months in and I feel…………..nothing. There wasn’t any satisfaction from getting a countersign, I didn’t celebrate myself enough. I…….just moved on. I don’t know whether this is good or bad, but I know that I am bored.
I’ve given everything in my adult life for this career, from riding the train on a sunny day just to get rejected, waiting hours for a meeting, pulling all nighters to make proposals, the 50 cold calls days, the late cross-timezone calls for my EU and US customers (I live in Asia), etc etc
I’m at a place where this career isn’t getting me anywhere. Every year, there are months where I had to max out my credit cards just to get by, I work just to get rid of my fear of getting fired or laid off or put on a PIP.
I’m at a lost, I can’t shake this fear of being broke again. This career is so brutal, I don’t think I can stay here longer.

Hello,
Recently I embraced my Flemish DNA and got into roadcycling and I am absolutely having a blast!
As a newcomer it is a little overwhelming though when I'm looking to buy stuff for my bike, clothing, food & beverages. So many brands and the prices range so much, I have no clue where the sweet spot is in terms of price & quality.

• Where do you get your clothing? Any sales I need to keep an eye out on? Specific shops, websites? I tried checking tweedehands but not really finding what I want.
  
• What do you eat during a ride? Gels and powerbars seem like overkill for an amateur at this stage so I've mainly resorted to frangipannen and eierkoeken but those are becoming boring real fast.
  
• What do you drink during a ride? So many brands selling the same thing I feel like. I bought Neapharma powder recently but I'm not liking it too much. Isostar lemon I thought was fine.
  
• Any other essentials to carry on a trip? I already got a pump, spare tire and cycling computer with me.
  
• I did my first big ride last week (120km+) and my neck was killing me in the last 30km. I have no idea what to adjust on my bike. Any recommendations for a bikefit in West-Flanders? Most I see in my area are around €200, is that the price for these fits?
  

Thanks for your time!

Why does every sales / vendor sales review or demo of a product suck ass.
I’m at a vendor event, and I’ve sat here for 2 hours listening to 6 different vendors get up and tell us why their product is best.
And all of the points suck and are weak points IMO.
And people wonder why MSPs struggle to sell products.
The vendors are selling shit with the most generic bland sales pitch - mate if I’m bored, how the hell is my customer going to care or be invested in what your product is💀💀💀
Don’t get me started on vendor sales guys telling me how to talk to my customers as well 😂😂 the most out of touch shit ever.
Also - PSA - SPEAK UP WE CANT HEAR YOU. My God.
Anyway - that concludes my hot take.
Don’t forget your free swag on the way out 🤮🤢

I am 24 years old, and I have been out of school for exactly 2 years now. I have a bachelor's degree in supply chain management & logistics. Here is background information:
I had a landscaping business in college. Did that for over 3 years, then graduated college and thought "getting a job" is the "thing to do." Sold landscaping equipment, got my real estate license, got a job as an outside sales rep for a regional sized trash & recycling company. I did a few few estate deals my first year being licensed. I worked the job for over a year and did pretty well at it. I then took a position as inside sales rep selling lab equipment. Just left that job after 9 months... so boring I was at a cubicle from 8 to 5 and it was depressing. I am back in the trash & recycling biz and it's fine for now (flexible, I can do real estate also, work on other interests), but this is not what I want. Its unfulfilling, and I'm learning that fulfillment is an important part of life.
So, I have about 2 years of work experience. I have a degree in Supply Chain Management. I want to build a successful career and don't know what avenue to pursue. It stresses me out daily thinking "What is it that I want to do?" I am good with people, not so much good with numbers/technical stuff. I want to work with a team and be a leader one day. Interaction with humans is important to me. I cannot work at a desk all day.
I live pretty simply and have saved over $100,000, as I understand that a "cushion" is a factor in choosing career path. I am debt free, my vehicles and toys are paid for.
I appreciate the genuine advice.

I've always been an online player but recently due to the decline of game quality and increase of min/maxing tryhards I've been getting burnt out. Only recently getting into singleplayer games, I picked up Skyrim because it was on sale on the PS Store. It was entirely different than all the other games I've played since then. Initially I got bored fast due to my comfort in the online sphere. I couldn't really go 30 mins without feeling alone or overwhelmed due to not understanding a lick of the lore. The only other singleplayer game I played you were playing a preestablished character with a linear storyline. Skyrim is different, it became hard for me to make choices in the game (I'm an indecisive person) and it hindered my progress of the game. I didn't know who my character was and I felt disconnected from everything around me. That is until I learned to immerse myself into the world and essentially roleplay as my character. I made a 'character sheet' of traits my character has and their moral alignment. Now I have SO MUCH fun with the game and I can enjoy every aspect of it. I no longer feel conflicted on choices nor do I feel disconnected. It makes me feel like a fleshed out character in the world. Now I'm barely started on my first playthrough and I already can see me playing a second time as a new character with a new story.
I remember this game coming out for the first time and I'm a bit bummed I didn't play it earlier, but better late than never I guess.

Absolute horrid story. I watched the whole game when it released on youtube around 4 years ago and now i finally played it for myself and beat the game a few weeks ago. I swear this was the most cringy worst game i’ve played in my entire life. Nearly every character is a midget now and they’re called “tinks” now. What was randy pichford thinking? Did he have a wet dream about what borderlands 3 should be and came up with midgets for every single boss? I bet the guy watched a ton of midget porn and had a fetish for that crap. It’s like he had a wet dream and wrote “midgets and streamers” as the main game’s objective on a piece of paper and told the entire game management team to go crazy. Lmao..
I bet he hired just about anybody to work on this awful game.
Here are some of my gripes.
All of enemies in the game are unserious and goofy now. Unlike how borderlands 1 you actually took enemies and bosses serious and they came off as deadly and badass. Now it’s like you’re against mentally challenged babies. Remember how scared and anxious you were to fight sledge in bl1? Yeah now you’re fighting against a midget baby boss that goes down in 10 shots.
Are you telling me every planet has psychos and just about the same enemies? Why couldn’t they have designed more enemies for each planet to make it feel unique. It makes the game’s world feel unauthentic. Like psychos should only be on pandora because how would they even get to space? Like what.
The new psycho design is a joke. I liked bl1’s design better when they were crazy coal miners who lost their jobs and went crazy. Now they’re just troy and tyreen’s puppets who try and imitate bl1’s psychos. Wtf happened to bruisers now? They felt intimidating in bl1 and 2 and now they’re just goofies with shotguns.
Why when we travel to new planets for the first time do we automatically appear with our shuttle crashed? No cutscene or anything of us landing? It’s just flat out lazy. Even the shuttles are in areas where it would be impossible to actually land. The planet previews are laughable and it’s lazy game design.
The vault bosses were mediocre and uninteresting compared to bl1 and 2. It’s like you’re fighting a dlc boss instead of an actual vault monster. I killed each vault monster in 3 minutes. A waste of what could’ve been something interesting. In the pre sequel’s ending you felt hyped for bl3 to come out because there were going to be all these cool vaults you could find. I didn’t feel an ounce of that when i played bl3. Every single vault has the same exact layout. It’s like the dev team were too lazy to even design something interesting. None of the vaults have good loot either. It’s laughable.
Don’t even get me started on how they made typhon deleon. He’s goofy, short, and fat and you can’t take him serious at all. This was a good moment to make a memorable character that was mentioned and hyped up in all 3 games but they ruined it all. Randy pitchford would rather have a midget fat guy that sounds like danny devito as the first vault hunter. Lmao.. This guy’s fetish went too far. ☠️
The calypso twins being typhon deleon’s kids makes no sense. They would be rich and already have all they wanted but instead they wrote them as bratty ungrateful kids who want world domination. Like what? You can’t takes these villains serious at all.
What in the hell were they thinking for the eridian homeworld planet? Remember how cool and awesome it was going to the vault in the end of bl1 and seeing the eridians. Now there’s none of that and it’s like you’re fighting kung fu fighters instead. The entire level’s design is so boring, bland, and uninteresting. Literally all they did was put two floating cubes in the middle of the map then copy and pasted the same structures all throughout the maps. Lmao.. such a waste of what could have been a cool planet to visit.
The dialogue in this game was horrible. It’s like nonstop jokes where you can’t even take anything serious. Every character is goofy and poorly portrayed. They were trying too hard to make the game funny.
When a main character dies they get a 30 second memorial talk and the game moves on. Also they made tannis a siren. LOL
Every single side mission felt like you were playing a torture simulator that got increasingly more annoying every time.
The only time i felt like the game was alright was the 1-2 missions we get to play that have mordecai, brick, and tiny tina. I liked that they made brick and mordecai look kinda like they did in bl1.
The part where you go to the jacobs estate and get to the jacobs ceo’s room it’s like why are there books everywhere? Isn’t this the guy the one who made jacob’s corporation and designed awesome guns? The one mentioned all of bl1 and 2? That guy? Why is his room filled with books and beer kegs? Shouldn’t there be guns hanging on the walls or something.. That’s awful game and character design.
Why didn’t they let us revisit fyrestone or some of the old locations from bl1 and 2? That would’ve been awesome but they would rather design new variations of midgets lmao.
Oh and the worst of all is the voice and gun sounds menu. Why didn’t they add a custom gun sound option that you could turn down? My ears were bleeding half the time from how loud the guns are (especially that acid legendary gun) and i spent half of my gameplay turning the volume up and down constantly trying to find a good level to where my ears wouldn’t explode and i could still hear the game. I literally had a ear ache. The technical vehicle’s engine sound was so loud i never used it half the time, and i only used the bike wheel vehicle for how badly loud it was. Also Ellie’s voice is so loud and obnoxious.
I bought the Ultimate Edition too with every single add on and dlc and you couldn’t get me to even try to ever play this game again. Lmao.
I played that mission of claptrap’s videogame and i said nope, i’m fucking done. That was the most annoying shit i had to sit through in a video game.
I already know the dlc would suck ass just like the main game. I can pass on the brain rot. No thanks. The last borderlands game i’ll probably play is tales from the borderlands 1. That’s even if i ever try it.
Borderlands as a whole is finished. The movie trailer was god awfully laughable. Randy pitchford is paying the price for his midget fetish.
I probably missed some stuff and might make a part 2 but there’s my 2 cents on this game.

I finally published for the first time. Not the first time I've finished a novel, but certainly the first time I have actively published one .. one that I've been a little proud of. I know it's a long process to get noticed, or even start to see some traction in sales & downloads, but how do you go about promoting your novel? I feel like I'm stuck. 😕
Beginning of chapter one below - if anyone would like to provide feedback that would be lovely. 🙂
[2,310] It began like a surreal haze, a fever dream dancing with unknown figures swirling around her like a languid tornado, their movements seemingly slowed by some unseen force as she awoke to a world spinning out of her control. She found herself surrounded by strangers who moved like spectres in a dream, fragmented flashes who assaulted her consciousness - a woman gently pressing a cloth to her throbbing head, another offering sips of water while she coughed and struggled to swallow, a man peering down at her with a furrowed brow, and a mysterious figure lingering in the doorway with an unsettling glint of desire in his eyes.
The room buzzed with a quiet urgency as they hovered around her, their faces etched with concern and something else she couldn't quite place - an undercurrent of tension that seemed to pulse in time with her own racing heart. These disjointed images flitted in and out, creating a mosaic of fragmented reality. Awake, her body throbbed with pain; asleep, she plunged into a black abyss, time slipping away unnoticed. Each awakening brought the desire for oblivion as her mind plunged back into the depths of darkness.
Beth jolted upright, startled by the sharp bang of a car backfiring. A cry of pain escaped her lips as she attempted to sit up, her back and legs resisting her will. A woman, the same from her fleeting visions, hurried into the room with a damp cloth and a glass of water.
"Easy now," the woman spoke gently, her mild Spanish accent adding warmth to her sharp words as she pressed the cloth to Beth's forehead and helped her sit up, "you're weak, rushing won't do you any favours. The sooner you regain strength, the sooner you can move."
A man, the one with the odd expression in her visions, appeared in the doorway once again; "and the sooner we can leave this place, I'm sick of it." He grumbled, striding away with urgency and frustration. His steps were heavy and fraught with agitation, each one seeming to leave a deep imprint on the ground beneath him. His grumbling was like distant thunder, punctuated by the clenching of his jaw and the tightening of his fists.
"Don't mind my brother," the woman interjected sharply, "it's not you - he hates everyone." Hate, Beth pondered, wondering what she might have done to earn his disdain.
"Are you hungry?" The woman stood, walking to the other side of the room to adjust another pillow behind Beth's back. Beth nodded; "I'll get you some soup."
Left alone, Beth surveyed the room - beige walls, a shattered TV, torn brown curtains. She squinted at the notepad on the side table, revealing the branding - Mill Village Motel Eatonville. The coffee pod machine at the room's far end, covered in dust, hinted at a neglected past.
"You're awake," startled, Beth turned to find the man with the furrowed brow at the door - tall and dark, with piercing brown eyes, he appeared softer now, "how are you feeling?" Beth managed a brief smile before adjusting herself, wincing in pain. He rushed to offer a hand, and she took his arm to shift as he adjusted the pillow.
"Want to give walking a try?" The man's warm, brown eyes crinkled at the edges as he smiled down at her, his features etched with concern, his furrowed brow now smooth and his brown eyes sparkled with an unfamiliar kindness.
She shook her head, and the woman returned with soup and water; "she needs to eat before attempting to walk, Austin," she said, setting the tray before Beth.
"Then we'll try again tomorrow," Austin expressed, heading towards the door, "the sooner we leave, the better - we've been here for too long." His footsteps echoed with determination and authority, less frustrated than the other man's but equally resolute.
"I apologise if it's cold. Heating options are limited here. Need a hand?" The woman offered. Beth shook her head, the pounding of her headache resonating through her body.
"Well I'll leave you to it then. Shout out if you need anything, if you can talk at all." Beth glanced down at her bowl of soup, parting her lips as if to speak, but no words escaped. A deep sigh escaped from the woman's mouth as she turned and left the room, leaving Beth alone with her cold, untouched meal. The silence in the room was deafening, broken only by the sound of muffed chatter outside.
The days stretched longer as Beth's need for rest diminished. Boredom and confusion settled in, intensifying as the people from her visions became tangible presences, moving in and out of her room. They attended to her needs but seldom engaged in conversation. At night, their muffled voices in the adjoining room became a distant comfort, and the faint echoes of their arguments a source of intrigue.
"We need to leave," a frustrated male voice pierced through the thin walls, "we have to head further south before winter traps us with little supplies and an extra mouth to feed - considering you're all so intent on keeping this girl alive."
"This woman," a familiar female voice retorted, likely the one who had been caring for her, "needed help - I distinctly remember a time when I wasn't doing well and needed it too."
"You're my sister, of course, I wasn't going to leave you behind."
"I'm not talking about you, Luis," she yelled, "I'm talking about before you came back from Minnesota and found me."
"Why can't we just leave her here with some supplies and a gun. Why do we need to bring her with us?"
"Jesus Christ Luis we're not leaving her here alone and you two can have it out later," intervened another man, "but Luis is right - we need to leave before the snow settles in."
The argument faded into muffled voices again, and Beth strained to catch the words exchanged between the trio. A knock at the door startled her.
"May I come in?" A young girl, the same from her visions, had opened the door quietly without her even noticing. "I thought the yelling might have woken you." Beth nodded, maintaining her silence.
"I'm Chantelle." Her soft Southern accent flowed like a gentle breeze through a cornfield. She pulled up a chair beside the bed. "Luis can get into it with everybody, but he means well. Well, no, that's a lie. I don't know why I said that. He's a dick."
"I gathered," Beth whispered and laughed a little, suddenly overtaken by a violent cough.
Chantelle rushed to hand her water; "so, you do speak. From the way Austin and Val were sayin' it, it sounded like you were mute. I thought, you couldn't be deaf because you've been nodding and smiling like a dang puppet."
Beth laughed and took another sip; "I didn't really have anything worth saying until now. No one has bothered to make conversation."
"Your accent, where are you from?" Chantelle sat down on the wooden chair, her long dark hair cascading down her back in gentle curls. Her bright brown eyes sparkled with kindness as she looked towards Beth.
"Australia," Beth paused, realising she hadn't thought about home for a while, "I'm from Australia," she repeated.
Chantelle pulled out a deck of cards; "well, I figured you might be bored and needed a little human interaction that didn't make you feel like you were in a hospital."
Beth's eyes lit up, and Chantelle smiled; "what do you want to play?"
— — —
"What do you think you are doing?" Austin stormed into the motel room.
"We're leaving. Today," Luis' words cut through the air.
"The van's still in bad shape, and we won't survive this winter on foot." Austin's arms were folded tightly across his chest, the muscles in his biceps and forearms bulging with tension. His jaw was clenched, and his brows furrowed in frustration.
"Then fix the damn van!" Luis yelled, the sound piercing through the walls and resonating outside the motel room for others to hear the heated exchange.
"Oh, sorry, I'll just take it down the road to the mechanic, shall I?" Austin raised a quizzical eyebrow, smirking at his friend. The men paused their argument, exchanging laughter.
"Luis, what's going on with you?" Austin softened his tone, taking a seat on the other bed. "We've been friends since high school, grew up together, served in the army together. This isn't you."
"I don't know, man." Luis sat on the other bed, facing his friend, his face buried in his hands. He rubbed his face hard, threw his head back, and sighed heavily. "This just isn't—" he paused.
"Isn't what?"
"Isn't life." Luis gestured around the room.
"We'll get to the coast, find a boat, just like we planned." There was a slight taste of bitterness in the air, as if Austin's mild frustration was tangible.
"And then what?"
"Do the best we can," Austin stood up, placing a hand on his friend's shoulder, "we all have our dark moments, brother. You helped me get through mine, I'll help you get through yours."
Austin walked out of the motel room into the crisp morning air. The atmosphere was fresh, with a subtle scent of dew and grass. The sweet aroma of winter's imminent arrival filled the air, mingling with the faint scent of burning oil from their broken down van across the parking lot.
"Ben thinks he can fix the van by tomorrow. He found the parts we need on the other side of town." Val caught Austin as he had walked outside.
"He went scouting alone?" Austin looked across the lot at Ben, deep into the hood of the black church van they had found a while back.
Chantelle bounded up before she could answer; "Beth seems much better today. She's eatin' and drinkin' more. I think she could try walkin' today."
"Beth?" Val and Austin remarked in unison.
"Mmm, she speaks - she might have a lot more to say if either of you bothered to converse with her instead of just talkin' to her." She walked off towards Ben, a light air in her hopeful stride.
— — —
Austin found Beth sitting on the edge of her bed, her feet bare and dangling idly over the side. Her toes were curled, squeezing them tightly as she wiggled them back and forth. Her face was tense with concentration as she tried to alleviate the tingling sensation in her feet.
"Beth." His voice was soothing and calming, his words spoken with a gentle tone as he tried to ease Beth's discomfort.
"Chantelle?" She looked up at him, as he nodded, smiling gently. "She's a good kid." She smiled and looked back at her toes.
"Do you want to try walking today?" He walked towards the chair on the other side of the room and sat down as it creaked underneath the weight of him.
"The sooner I can walk, the sooner you can get out of here." She said with a sarcastic air, mocking Luis.
"The sooner we can get out of here." He repeated sarcastically with a smile, a light spread of jest washing over him as he joined her in mocking his friend.
"Your friend Luis seems to be very against bringing me along with you." She looked back at him.
"I'm not in the business of leaving people behind. Especially in Washington in the middle of October," he sat forward, leaning his elbows on his knees, "you wouldn't survive the winter."
"Then maybe you should have just left me to die." She turned her body to face him abruptly. He opened his mouth to speak, but she interjected before he could respond.
"Why did you help me? You don't know me, why did you even bother?"
"Like I said, Beth," he stood up, his wistful tone switching back to cold and dry, "I'm not in the business of leaving people behind." He walked over to her slowly.
"I've lost too many people. I've watched people kill others over a can of soup. I've seen friends leave friends behind to save themselves," he sat down on the end of her bed, "I don't leave people behind."
His brown eyes cut through his words like a thunderstorm. She looked at his face, tired and weathered from sleepless nights with one eye open to ensure his group's safety. She pegged him as their leader - strong and determined with clear military training.
"What happened to you?" She asked softly.
"What happened to you?" He countered; "I refuse to believe you survived a pandemic alone for six months in a foreign country."
She said nothing and looked back at her feet. They sat in silence for a while before he stood up and headed for the door.
"We're leaving the day after tomorrow. We need to head south before it's too cold, and we don't know how long the van or the car will last, so part of that might be on foot."
"I'll try walking today." Beth nodded obediently.
"I'll send Val and Chantelle in to help you." He replied, his voice maintaining the cold cadency.
"Thank you." She smiled, wriggling her toes as the numbness started to dissipate. Before he could leave, she looked up at him again.
"Austin?" He stopped at the door and turned to her. "I know you've all done a lot for me, including putting your friendship with Luis on the line, so thank you. But I have a favour to ask," her voice grew quiet, "before we leave."
"What is it?" He asked sternly at her audacity to ask for another favour.
She looked up at him with tears in her eyes. He noticed her green eyes glisten with the added layer of acridity and the change in her demeanour; "before we leave, I need you to help me bury my husband."

I finally published for the first time. Not the first time I've finished a novel, but certainly the first time I have actively published one .. one that I've been a little proud of. I know it's a long process to get noticed, or even start to see some traction in sales & downloads, but how do you go about promoting your novel? I feel like I'm stuck. 😕
Beginning of chapter one below - if anyone would like to provide feedback that would be lovely. 🙂
[2,310] It began like a surreal haze, a fever dream dancing with unknown figures swirling around her like a languid tornado, their movements seemingly slowed by some unseen force as she awoke to a world spinning out of her control. She found herself surrounded by strangers who moved like spectres in a dream, fragmented flashes who assaulted her consciousness - a woman gently pressing a cloth to her throbbing head, another offering sips of water while she coughed and struggled to swallow, a man peering down at her with a furrowed brow, and a mysterious figure lingering in the doorway with an unsettling glint of desire in his eyes.
The room buzzed with a quiet urgency as they hovered around her, their faces etched with concern and something else she couldn't quite place - an undercurrent of tension that seemed to pulse in time with her own racing heart. These disjointed images flitted in and out, creating a mosaic of fragmented reality. Awake, her body throbbed with pain; asleep, she plunged into a black abyss, time slipping away unnoticed. Each awakening brought the desire for oblivion as her mind plunged back into the depths of darkness.
Beth jolted upright, startled by the sharp bang of a car backfiring. A cry of pain escaped her lips as she attempted to sit up, her back and legs resisting her will. A woman, the same from her fleeting visions, hurried into the room with a damp cloth and a glass of water.
"Easy now," the woman spoke gently, her mild Spanish accent adding warmth to her sharp words as she pressed the cloth to Beth's forehead and helped her sit up, "you're weak, rushing won't do you any favours. The sooner you regain strength, the sooner you can move."
A man, the one with the odd expression in her visions, appeared in the doorway once again; "and the sooner we can leave this place, I'm sick of it." He grumbled, striding away with urgency and frustration. His steps were heavy and fraught with agitation, each one seeming to leave a deep imprint on the ground beneath him. His grumbling was like distant thunder, punctuated by the clenching of his jaw and the tightening of his fists.
"Don't mind my brother," the woman interjected sharply, "it's not you - he hates everyone." Hate, Beth pondered, wondering what she might have done to earn his disdain.
"Are you hungry?" The woman stood, walking to the other side of the room to adjust another pillow behind Beth's back. Beth nodded; "I'll get you some soup."
Left alone, Beth surveyed the room - beige walls, a shattered TV, torn brown curtains. She squinted at the notepad on the side table, revealing the branding - Mill Village Motel Eatonville. The coffee pod machine at the room's far end, covered in dust, hinted at a neglected past.
"You're awake," startled, Beth turned to find the man with the furrowed brow at the door - tall and dark, with piercing brown eyes, he appeared softer now, "how are you feeling?" Beth managed a brief smile before adjusting herself, wincing in pain. He rushed to offer a hand, and she took his arm to shift as he adjusted the pillow.
"Want to give walking a try?" The man's warm, brown eyes crinkled at the edges as he smiled down at her, his features etched with concern, his furrowed brow now smooth and his brown eyes sparkled with an unfamiliar kindness.
She shook her head, and the woman returned with soup and water; "she needs to eat before attempting to walk, Austin," she said, setting the tray before Beth.
"Then we'll try again tomorrow," Austin expressed, heading towards the door, "the sooner we leave, the better - we've been here for too long." His footsteps echoed with determination and authority, less frustrated than the other man's but equally resolute.
"I apologise if it's cold. Heating options are limited here. Need a hand?" The woman offered. Beth shook her head, the pounding of her headache resonating through her body.
"Well I'll leave you to it then. Shout out if you need anything, if you can talk at all." Beth glanced down at her bowl of soup, parting her lips as if to speak, but no words escaped. A deep sigh escaped from the woman's mouth as she turned and left the room, leaving Beth alone with her cold, untouched meal. The silence in the room was deafening, broken only by the sound of muffed chatter outside.
The days stretched longer as Beth's need for rest diminished. Boredom and confusion settled in, intensifying as the people from her visions became tangible presences, moving in and out of her room. They attended to her needs but seldom engaged in conversation. At night, their muffled voices in the adjoining room became a distant comfort, and the faint echoes of their arguments a source of intrigue.
"We need to leave," a frustrated male voice pierced through the thin walls, "we have to head further south before winter traps us with little supplies and an extra mouth to feed - considering you're all so intent on keeping this girl alive."
"This woman," a familiar female voice retorted, likely the one who had been caring for her, "needed help - I distinctly remember a time when I wasn't doing well and needed it too."
"You're my sister, of course, I wasn't going to leave you behind."
"I'm not talking about you, Luis," she yelled, "I'm talking about before you came back from Minnesota and found me."
"Why can't we just leave her here with some supplies and a gun. Why do we need to bring her with us?"
"Jesus Christ Luis we're not leaving her here alone and you two can have it out later," intervened another man, "but Luis is right - we need to leave before the snow settles in."
The argument faded into muffled voices again, and Beth strained to catch the words exchanged between the trio. A knock at the door startled her.
"May I come in?" A young girl, the same from her visions, had opened the door quietly without her even noticing. "I thought the yelling might have woken you." Beth nodded, maintaining her silence.
"I'm Chantelle." Her soft Southern accent flowed like a gentle breeze through a cornfield. She pulled up a chair beside the bed. "Luis can get into it with everybody, but he means well. Well, no, that's a lie. I don't know why I said that. He's a dick."
"I gathered," Beth whispered and laughed a little, suddenly overtaken by a violent cough.
Chantelle rushed to hand her water; "so, you do speak. From the way Austin and Val were sayin' it, it sounded like you were mute. I thought, you couldn't be deaf because you've been nodding and smiling like a dang puppet."
Beth laughed and took another sip; "I didn't really have anything worth saying until now. No one has bothered to make conversation."
"Your accent, where are you from?" Chantelle sat down on the wooden chair, her long dark hair cascading down her back in gentle curls. Her bright brown eyes sparkled with kindness as she looked towards Beth.
"Australia," Beth paused, realising she hadn't thought about home for a while, "I'm from Australia," she repeated.
Chantelle pulled out a deck of cards; "well, I figured you might be bored and needed a little human interaction that didn't make you feel like you were in a hospital."
Beth's eyes lit up, and Chantelle smiled; "what do you want to play?"
— — —
"What do you think you are doing?" Austin stormed into the motel room.
"We're leaving. Today," Luis' words cut through the air.
"The van's still in bad shape, and we won't survive this winter on foot." Austin's arms were folded tightly across his chest, the muscles in his biceps and forearms bulging with tension. His jaw was clenched, and his brows furrowed in frustration.
"Then fix the damn van!" Luis yelled, the sound piercing through the walls and resonating outside the motel room for others to hear the heated exchange.
"Oh, sorry, I'll just take it down the road to the mechanic, shall I?" Austin raised a quizzical eyebrow, smirking at his friend. The men paused their argument, exchanging laughter.
"Luis, what's going on with you?" Austin softened his tone, taking a seat on the other bed. "We've been friends since high school, grew up together, served in the army together. This isn't you."
"I don't know, man." Luis sat on the other bed, facing his friend, his face buried in his hands. He rubbed his face hard, threw his head back, and sighed heavily. "This just isn't—" he paused.
"Isn't what?"
"Isn't life." Luis gestured around the room.
"We'll get to the coast, find a boat, just like we planned." There was a slight taste of bitterness in the air, as if Austin's mild frustration was tangible.
"And then what?"
"Do the best we can," Austin stood up, placing a hand on his friend's shoulder, "we all have our dark moments, brother. You helped me get through mine, I'll help you get through yours."
Austin walked out of the motel room into the crisp morning air. The atmosphere was fresh, with a subtle scent of dew and grass. The sweet aroma of winter's imminent arrival filled the air, mingling with the faint scent of burning oil from their broken down van across the parking lot.
"Ben thinks he can fix the van by tomorrow. He found the parts we need on the other side of town." Val caught Austin as he had walked outside.
"He went scouting alone?" Austin looked across the lot at Ben, deep into the hood of the black church van they had found a while back.
Chantelle bounded up before she could answer; "Beth seems much better today. She's eatin' and drinkin' more. I think she could try walkin' today."
"Beth?" Val and Austin remarked in unison.
"Mmm, she speaks - she might have a lot more to say if either of you bothered to converse with her instead of just talkin' to her." She walked off towards Ben, a light air in her hopeful stride.
— — —
Austin found Beth sitting on the edge of her bed, her feet bare and dangling idly over the side. Her toes were curled, squeezing them tightly as she wiggled them back and forth. Her face was tense with concentration as she tried to alleviate the tingling sensation in her feet.
"Beth." His voice was soothing and calming, his words spoken with a gentle tone as he tried to ease Beth's discomfort.
"Chantelle?" She looked up at him, as he nodded, smiling gently. "She's a good kid." She smiled and looked back at her toes.
"Do you want to try walking today?" He walked towards the chair on the other side of the room and sat down as it creaked underneath the weight of him.
"The sooner I can walk, the sooner you can get out of here." She said with a sarcastic air, mocking Luis.
"The sooner we can get out of here." He repeated sarcastically with a smile, a light spread of jest washing over him as he joined her in mocking his friend.
"Your friend Luis seems to be very against bringing me along with you." She looked back at him.
"I'm not in the business of leaving people behind. Especially in Washington in the middle of October," he sat forward, leaning his elbows on his knees, "you wouldn't survive the winter."
"Then maybe you should have just left me to die." She turned her body to face him abruptly. He opened his mouth to speak, but she interjected before he could respond.
"Why did you help me? You don't know me, why did you even bother?"
"Like I said, Beth," he stood up, his wistful tone switching back to cold and dry, "I'm not in the business of leaving people behind." He walked over to her slowly.
"I've lost too many people. I've watched people kill others over a can of soup. I've seen friends leave friends behind to save themselves," he sat down on the end of her bed, "I don't leave people behind."
His brown eyes cut through his words like a thunderstorm. She looked at his face, tired and weathered from sleepless nights with one eye open to ensure his group's safety. She pegged him as their leader - strong and determined with clear military training.
"What happened to you?" She asked softly.
"What happened to you?" He countered; "I refuse to believe you survived a pandemic alone for six months in a foreign country."
She said nothing and looked back at her feet. They sat in silence for a while before he stood up and headed for the door.
"We're leaving the day after tomorrow. We need to head south before it's too cold, and we don't know how long the van or the car will last, so part of that might be on foot."
"I'll try walking today." Beth nodded obediently.
"I'll send Val and Chantelle in to help you." He replied, his voice maintaining the cold cadency.
"Thank you." She smiled, wriggling her toes as the numbness started to dissipate. Before he could leave, she looked up at him again.
"Austin?" He stopped at the door and turned to her. "I know you've all done a lot for me, including putting your friendship with Luis on the line, so thank you. But I have a favour to ask," her voice grew quiet, "before we leave."
"What is it?" He asked sternly at her audacity to ask for another favour.
She looked up at him with tears in her eyes. He noticed her green eyes glisten with the added layer of acridity and the change in her demeanour; "before we leave, I need you to help me bury my husband."

For me id say the dark forces remaster. i bought it for 20 (and that was on sale) and honestly all things considered this is the worst boomer shooter ive played so far. These puzzles are ridiculous hard. I mean i still figured them out but at the cost of wandering around for like 20 minutes, the musics repetitive, And most of the levels are bland and boring. One thing i do like is the mission objectives that make you feel like youre actually doing something other than killing baddies and the guns are alright mostly. but honestly i feel ripped off. thoughts?

I finally published for the first time. Not the first time I've finished a novel, but certainly the first time I have actively published one .. one that I've been a little proud of. I know it's a long process to get noticed, or even start to see some traction in sales & downloads, but how do you go about promoting your novel? I feel like I'm stuck. 😕
Beginning of chapter one below - if anyone would like to provide feedback that would be lovely. 🙂
[2,310] It began like a surreal haze, a fever dream dancing with unknown figures swirling around her like a languid tornado, their movements seemingly slowed by some unseen force as she awoke to a world spinning out of her control. She found herself surrounded by strangers who moved like spectres in a dream, fragmented flashes who assaulted her consciousness - a woman gently pressing a cloth to her throbbing head, another offering sips of water while she coughed and struggled to swallow, a man peering down at her with a furrowed brow, and a mysterious figure lingering in the doorway with an unsettling glint of desire in his eyes.
The room buzzed with a quiet urgency as they hovered around her, their faces etched with concern and something else she couldn't quite place - an undercurrent of tension that seemed to pulse in time with her own racing heart. These disjointed images flitted in and out, creating a mosaic of fragmented reality. Awake, her body throbbed with pain; asleep, she plunged into a black abyss, time slipping away unnoticed. Each awakening brought the desire for oblivion as her mind plunged back into the depths of darkness.
Beth jolted upright, startled by the sharp bang of a car backfiring. A cry of pain escaped her lips as she attempted to sit up, her back and legs resisting her will. A woman, the same from her fleeting visions, hurried into the room with a damp cloth and a glass of water.
"Easy now," the woman spoke gently, her mild Spanish accent adding warmth to her sharp words as she pressed the cloth to Beth's forehead and helped her sit up, "you're weak, rushing won't do you any favours. The sooner you regain strength, the sooner you can move."
A man, the one with the odd expression in her visions, appeared in the doorway once again; "and the sooner we can leave this place, I'm sick of it." He grumbled, striding away with urgency and frustration. His steps were heavy and fraught with agitation, each one seeming to leave a deep imprint on the ground beneath him. His grumbling was like distant thunder, punctuated by the clenching of his jaw and the tightening of his fists.
"Don't mind my brother," the woman interjected sharply, "it's not you - he hates everyone." Hate, Beth pondered, wondering what she might have done to earn his disdain.
"Are you hungry?" The woman stood, walking to the other side of the room to adjust another pillow behind Beth's back. Beth nodded; "I'll get you some soup."
Left alone, Beth surveyed the room - beige walls, a shattered TV, torn brown curtains. She squinted at the notepad on the side table, revealing the branding - Mill Village Motel Eatonville. The coffee pod machine at the room's far end, covered in dust, hinted at a neglected past.
"You're awake," startled, Beth turned to find the man with the furrowed brow at the door - tall and dark, with piercing brown eyes, he appeared softer now, "how are you feeling?" Beth managed a brief smile before adjusting herself, wincing in pain. He rushed to offer a hand, and she took his arm to shift as he adjusted the pillow.
"Want to give walking a try?" The man's warm, brown eyes crinkled at the edges as he smiled down at her, his features etched with concern, his furrowed brow now smooth and his brown eyes sparkled with an unfamiliar kindness.
She shook her head, and the woman returned with soup and water; "she needs to eat before attempting to walk, Austin," she said, setting the tray before Beth.
"Then we'll try again tomorrow," Austin expressed, heading towards the door, "the sooner we leave, the better - we've been here for too long." His footsteps echoed with determination and authority, less frustrated than the other man's but equally resolute.
"I apologise if it's cold. Heating options are limited here. Need a hand?" The woman offered. Beth shook her head, the pounding of her headache resonating through her body.
"Well I'll leave you to it then. Shout out if you need anything, if you can talk at all." Beth glanced down at her bowl of soup, parting her lips as if to speak, but no words escaped. A deep sigh escaped from the woman's mouth as she turned and left the room, leaving Beth alone with her cold, untouched meal. The silence in the room was deafening, broken only by the sound of muffed chatter outside.
The days stretched longer as Beth's need for rest diminished. Boredom and confusion settled in, intensifying as the people from her visions became tangible presences, moving in and out of her room. They attended to her needs but seldom engaged in conversation. At night, their muffled voices in the adjoining room became a distant comfort, and the faint echoes of their arguments a source of intrigue.
"We need to leave," a frustrated male voice pierced through the thin walls, "we have to head further south before winter traps us with little supplies and an extra mouth to feed - considering you're all so intent on keeping this girl alive."
"This woman," a familiar female voice retorted, likely the one who had been caring for her, "needed help - I distinctly remember a time when I wasn't doing well and needed it too."
"You're my sister, of course, I wasn't going to leave you behind."
"I'm not talking about you, Luis," she yelled, "I'm talking about before you came back from Minnesota and found me."
"Why can't we just leave her here with some supplies and a gun. Why do we need to bring her with us?"
"Jesus Christ Luis we're not leaving her here alone and you two can have it out later," intervened another man, "but Luis is right - we need to leave before the snow settles in."
The argument faded into muffled voices again, and Beth strained to catch the words exchanged between the trio. A knock at the door startled her.
"May I come in?" A young girl, the same from her visions, had opened the door quietly without her even noticing. "I thought the yelling might have woken you." Beth nodded, maintaining her silence.
"I'm Chantelle." Her soft Southern accent flowed like a gentle breeze through a cornfield. She pulled up a chair beside the bed. "Luis can get into it with everybody, but he means well. Well, no, that's a lie. I don't know why I said that. He's a dick."
"I gathered," Beth whispered and laughed a little, suddenly overtaken by a violent cough.
Chantelle rushed to hand her water; "so, you do speak. From the way Austin and Val were sayin' it, it sounded like you were mute. I thought, you couldn't be deaf because you've been nodding and smiling like a dang puppet."
Beth laughed and took another sip; "I didn't really have anything worth saying until now. No one has bothered to make conversation."
"Your accent, where are you from?" Chantelle sat down on the wooden chair, her long dark hair cascading down her back in gentle curls. Her bright brown eyes sparkled with kindness as she looked towards Beth.
"Australia," Beth paused, realising she hadn't thought about home for a while, "I'm from Australia," she repeated.
Chantelle pulled out a deck of cards; "well, I figured you might be bored and needed a little human interaction that didn't make you feel like you were in a hospital."
Beth's eyes lit up, and Chantelle smiled; "what do you want to play?"
— — —
"What do you think you are doing?" Austin stormed into the motel room.
"We're leaving. Today," Luis' words cut through the air.
"The van's still in bad shape, and we won't survive this winter on foot." Austin's arms were folded tightly across his chest, the muscles in his biceps and forearms bulging with tension. His jaw was clenched, and his brows furrowed in frustration.
"Then fix the damn van!" Luis yelled, the sound piercing through the walls and resonating outside the motel room for others to hear the heated exchange.
"Oh, sorry, I'll just take it down the road to the mechanic, shall I?" Austin raised a quizzical eyebrow, smirking at his friend. The men paused their argument, exchanging laughter.
"Luis, what's going on with you?" Austin softened his tone, taking a seat on the other bed. "We've been friends since high school, grew up together, served in the army together. This isn't you."
"I don't know, man." Luis sat on the other bed, facing his friend, his face buried in his hands. He rubbed his face hard, threw his head back, and sighed heavily. "This just isn't—" he paused.
"Isn't what?"
"Isn't life." Luis gestured around the room.
"We'll get to the coast, find a boat, just like we planned." There was a slight taste of bitterness in the air, as if Austin's mild frustration was tangible.
"And then what?"
"Do the best we can," Austin stood up, placing a hand on his friend's shoulder, "we all have our dark moments, brother. You helped me get through mine, I'll help you get through yours."
Austin walked out of the motel room into the crisp morning air. The atmosphere was fresh, with a subtle scent of dew and grass. The sweet aroma of winter's imminent arrival filled the air, mingling with the faint scent of burning oil from their broken down van across the parking lot.
"Ben thinks he can fix the van by tomorrow. He found the parts we need on the other side of town." Val caught Austin as he had walked outside.
"He went scouting alone?" Austin looked across the lot at Ben, deep into the hood of the black church van they had found a while back.
Chantelle bounded up before she could answer; "Beth seems much better today. She's eatin' and drinkin' more. I think she could try walkin' today."
"Beth?" Val and Austin remarked in unison.
"Mmm, she speaks - she might have a lot more to say if either of you bothered to converse with her instead of just talkin' to her." She walked off towards Ben, a light air in her hopeful stride.
— — —
Austin found Beth sitting on the edge of her bed, her feet bare and dangling idly over the side. Her toes were curled, squeezing them tightly as she wiggled them back and forth. Her face was tense with concentration as she tried to alleviate the tingling sensation in her feet.
"Beth." His voice was soothing and calming, his words spoken with a gentle tone as he tried to ease Beth's discomfort.
"Chantelle?" She looked up at him, as he nodded, smiling gently. "She's a good kid." She smiled and looked back at her toes.
"Do you want to try walking today?" He walked towards the chair on the other side of the room and sat down as it creaked underneath the weight of him.
"The sooner I can walk, the sooner you can get out of here." She said with a sarcastic air, mocking Luis.
"The sooner we can get out of here." He repeated sarcastically with a smile, a light spread of jest washing over him as he joined her in mocking his friend.
"Your friend Luis seems to be very against bringing me along with you." She looked back at him.
"I'm not in the business of leaving people behind. Especially in Washington in the middle of October," he sat forward, leaning his elbows on his knees, "you wouldn't survive the winter."
"Then maybe you should have just left me to die." She turned her body to face him abruptly. He opened his mouth to speak, but she interjected before he could respond.
"Why did you help me? You don't know me, why did you even bother?"
"Like I said, Beth," he stood up, his wistful tone switching back to cold and dry, "I'm not in the business of leaving people behind." He walked over to her slowly.
"I've lost too many people. I've watched people kill others over a can of soup. I've seen friends leave friends behind to save themselves," he sat down on the end of her bed, "I don't leave people behind."
His brown eyes cut through his words like a thunderstorm. She looked at his face, tired and weathered from sleepless nights with one eye open to ensure his group's safety. She pegged him as their leader - strong and determined with clear military training.
"What happened to you?" She asked softly.
"What happened to you?" He countered; "I refuse to believe you survived a pandemic alone for six months in a foreign country."
She said nothing and looked back at her feet. They sat in silence for a while before he stood up and headed for the door.
"We're leaving the day after tomorrow. We need to head south before it's too cold, and we don't know how long the van or the car will last, so part of that might be on foot."
"I'll try walking today." Beth nodded obediently.
"I'll send Val and Chantelle in to help you." He replied, his voice maintaining the cold cadency.
"Thank you." She smiled, wriggling her toes as the numbness started to dissipate. Before he could leave, she looked up at him again.
"Austin?" He stopped at the door and turned to her. "I know you've all done a lot for me, including putting your friendship with Luis on the line, so thank you. But I have a favour to ask," her voice grew quiet, "before we leave."
"What is it?" He asked sternly at her audacity to ask for another favour.
She looked up at him with tears in her eyes. He noticed her green eyes glisten with the added layer of acridity and the change in her demeanour; "before we leave, I need you to help me bury my husband."

Hey yall, I'm trying to decide between the two bikes but can't make up my mind. The 2021 xsr700 has 500 miles and is ~$8000. The 2021 xsr900 has 2100 miles, and they're asking ~$9000. I haven't negotiated with either sellers, so I no idea if they'll come down at all.
I am 25, 280 lbs, and I used to ride an sv650 thorough high school. Grew up riding dirt bikes for fun and, while I know it's no where near the same, bicycles have been a major part in my life so I'm pretty aware of what my body is doing and how to move it.
My reasoning for questioning these two bikes is that I don't want to get bored of the xsr700, and I'm not sure if my weight will make it ride less than ideal or negate some power. I feel that if I rode the xsr900 in rain mode for a while, I could work my way up to full power without getting bored. Honestly, most of my riding will either be freeway and exploring city and back roads. I don't really have many canyons or twisty roads in my area to race around on.
What say you all? Is the xsr700 power and ride sufficient for my weight? What other benefits are there? Maybe cheaper insurance?
Edit: I'd also like to add that I have a nagging part of my brain that says it might be fun to go the bobbecruiser route. If that's the path I go down, I'd like a indian Scout Bobber, but there are zero for sale in my area, and I'm not a huge fan of the price tag attached. Does anyone have any experience with a 2014 yamaha bolt r-spec? I know these 3 bikes are all pretty 6 any advice would be appreciated. I can get the bolt for $5k but fear the lack of power even more than the xsr700 (obviously).

I am by no means a veteran player per my own standards. I’ve played since launch but with MASSIVE gaps inbetween culminating in about 300+ hours and a lvl of 312 as of today.
I have plenty left to do and am still chasing the perfect rolls for my main build, let alone builds 2, 3, etc.
This idea I had isn’t all that revolutionary and may not be a new idea to some at all but it only occurred to me a few days ago. The best prefixes on my armor and weapons are going to usually apply WELL to MOST situations. Maybe more than just well… But anyway chasing rolls that do GREAT in ONE scenario is an interesting chase. Full troubleshooters gear with maybe a shotgun build for specifically running silos. Something off meta but tuned for specific encounters or areas of the game. Sure it’s niche but it would up the fun factor for a little while imo. And the best part is if it’s kinda just a gag or for one enemy type getting perfect 3/3’s isn’t really important so it’s not like you’d be grinding endlessly and could instead try different setups pretty rapidly in succession.
This might sound like “duh” or boring to some but I thought it sounded like a fun way to keep the breath of life in the game IF it’s getting tiresome for anyone.

I am in the market for buying my first Chromebook. It will mainly serve as an entertainment device with some light Google Docs / Sheets work. I have had my eye on this device and it is now on sale for $410 CAD on the Lenovo website. It comes with 8 GB of ram and the digital pen (not needed, but nice to have).
Wondering if this is a good deal or if I should wait for potential newer releases? Appreciate any insights!

Hi, I love sci-fi and space related games. I've been eyeing the X series for a while, but never got around to it because my PC was kinda shite. I've had a upgrade recently, and with the sale going on I'm wondering if X4 is closer to what I'm looking for than other games on the market.
I'm mostly looking for something to enable my space cowboy fantasy (small ship with no crew, roam the stars taking odd jobs and bounties), and not so much the empire / fleet building type. It's cool, and I might enjoy it when I'm bored of horsing around, but the performance cost it comes at seems too extreme, and I don't trust AI not to be too obtuse.
I've heard X4 is less about that empire building compared to X3 because a lot of the game's processing is dedicated to the realtime simulation of the universe, so naturally you're going to have less ships anyway.
I guess what I'm asking is if the performance hit late-game, in exchange for some added depth in those earlier layers, is worth it. I tend to be really fussy about FPS, and if a game isn't smooth I usually drop it until performance improves or I upgrade. For reference, I'm packing a Ryzen 7 5700x, Radeon 7800xt, and 16gb of RAM. Unfortunately, I wasn't aware of how single-core oriented these games are when I was planning my upgrade. That's on me.
Thanks for your time, X-ers. X-gamers? I'm not sure what you call yourselves, but hopefully I'll be one soon.

This is all short form as I can make it. When I was 15 years old, I was a little skinny skater kid, was bullied a lot. It was my first year of highschool. (Grade 9, Ontario.) I was bullied horrendously. The county kids would golf club shotgun shells at my face while I would skateboard down the hill after lunch break. It bugged me, but I always had the picture perfect mother and father household to return to. I grew up with perfect parents. I was polite, I was determined, I didn’t let anybody stop me. Then my father starts acting strange. He starts acting childish. And while our humour together is immature, this was a grown man acting like a child. It was scary and started kind of suddenly. I come to find he has a brain tumour as my mom tells me. She always would bring me in to help her fold clothes when she had bad news. Anyways, some time goes by. We learn it is a brain tumour. Some times goes by, we learn it is stage 4 cancer. He didn’t smoke, he would only drink during cookouts with neighbours or watching new episodes of the clone wars animated tv show with me on Fridays. Anyways, he progresses, it becomes nightmarish. The man I knew was already dead at one point. It was like his brain cancer was a parasite. I started to become very dark as a person, and detached. He would watch me play Nintendo 64 with his legs shaking violently, not understanding why I was shooting stormtroopers in the game. I told him they are stormtroopers dad remember? The empire? Over time it became a blur from this point. From what I remember that my brain lets me, he was in hospice, sickly, moon faced, like I was watching cancer take over his body and taunt me. I became addicted to crack cocaine , I didn’t take school seriously anymore, I was around violence, meth, constantly partying and hanging with people twice my age or more and started owing debts. I somehow always managed to weasel my way out with sales from my beatmaking hobby. I completely destroy myself for years, stopped attending school, my mother and I were a team, but I constantly worried her. Hard drugs had taken me over. I lost my sense of reality because I didn’t want to think about my father being wheeled out lifeless. Hugging his cold body one last time at the funeral before he was buried. Fast forward, I have been discharged from the phych ward due to a suicide attempt at 18. I still have my cheo bear even though I was old it brings me comfort. His name is Gus. Years of alcoholism follow. Because after my cheo incident weed would make me shake violently. We now come to present day. I am 24. My mother has remarried with a stepfather. He has learned to ease up around us as he grew up a different way. I started adult high-school last year and just passed my math exam. The alcoholism still exists but only once a weekend. It seems I may have developed diabetes from it but it’s not concrete. It’s hard especially with women explaining how you are starting your fifteen year old life at 23-24 but you know what? It’s never too late. Life certainly has a lot more pain in the future as any adult life does. But a life of being a man completely formed by a traumatic event is rough, underneath that is all of the great heart my father taught me. His last words he spoke were “be grape” it sounds silly but that’s his brain cancer. You could tell there was a frustrated man beneath who could no longer express himself. And he meant be great as my mother said. And I will not die until I am. It is never too late, to be great. ❤️

I am looking into my first E-bike and have plenty of experience with gas bikes so intensity is nothing for me to worry about. I wanted something cheap honestly, and I came across the Talaria XXX. I don’t think I will be upgrading anytime soon so I don’t really care for a Surron. And besides, my buddy has one and the thing just feels like a piece of crap when you ride it, definitely doesn’t feel like $4,600. I heard better about E-ride Pros and Talarias.
To my main point, the Talaria X3 on Luna Cycle is $3,150 right now. After shipping it is $3,400. The Sting R is on sale for $4,200 and has free shipping. So in total it’s only an $800 difference. I see people ripping the X3 in trails all of the time so I did plan on some trail riding. Nothing crazy though because I ride the bike to the trails and by the time I would get it to something like the dunes it would be at 50% battery. So the trails would be pretty low key. I sort of wanted something to maybe be more on the road but also function in trails. I also wanted something that is fun to rip through town and hit some wheelies. I love riding bikes and will get a motorcycle when I turn 18, so I would also take it to work and stuff.
What are your thoughts? The Talaria X3 is sort of nice for what I want and even has super moto wheels, but I would have to buy dirt wheels to go off roading with it. Its also super small and nimble. The Sting R is only $800 more but is way bigger. It’s also faster and I would think has more range.
P.S. I am maybe possibly planning on bringing this bike to college in two years which is a factor as the Sting R is bigger and less low key. I just don’t know if I might get bored of something like the X3 or do you guys that have it really just never get bored of it. I live in a rural area so city isn’t a factor and there isn’t anything like big get togethers or takeovers.

I tried DCS after buying the F-15. I learned the controls of the plane and mapped it out on my streamdeck and joystick. I dont know why but it was the best experience ive ever had in a flight simulator. I thought "who is crazy enough to spend 80€ on a single plane?". But now i just want to fly the F-16 on a cool map and just fly and shoot down planes. I think im getting the A-10C next(the one in flaming cliffs). I will wait for a sale for the expensive planes because its just a bit too expensive, but i will buy them i must buy them! I often heard that you should buy your favourite planes to make the studying less boring, so the A-10 should be a great choice. Who actually needs to have a comfortable bed? When i could sell it for a few Euros and buy planes with it?

There’s this quote from the movie ratatouille that always comes back to me whenever I get too vitriolic with my criticism of any media.
“In the grand scheme of things, the average piece of junk is probably more meaningful than our criticism deeming it so.” – Antoine Ego
Of course criticism is valid and this shouldn’t hinder us from doing it, but if you really think about it, us critics, especially internet critics, just sit back and spew nonsense about “bad writing” and “media Literacy”, when most of us have never even attempted to write a story.
Why do I say this?
Just to preface some thoughts I had about Dear anemone, a manga that is on its way to getting axed in shonen jump almost certainly. Lots of threads on the series talk about poor writing, and bad choices, that’s all fine….but I thought instead, lets take the perspective of the mangaka for a second….and see how our criticisms might seem from the perspective of being a mangaka in Jump.
What prompted this was the report that Rin matsui had deleted mentions of dear anemone on his own twitter account, which really hit me. Something about his art not even being recognised just made me feel sad.
https://twitter.com/ELECTRO_RING?s=09

The sheer stress of being a mangaka …..ie….why Bakuman probably romanticized it.

80-100 hour work weeks at the very least to pump out 20 pages, constantly being evaluated by rankings you are given access to after finishing, needing to adjust to the whims of an audience who articulate their grievances but probably know nothing about art and storytelling.
I couldn’t do it. Most cant. This doesn’t require sympathy on its own merits…. lots of jobs are hard, but goddamn must it be stressful.
Most reading this are either familiar with or have watched or read bakuman. Much of our knowledge of how shueisha works comes from this series. Some of it is outdated, much of it apparently true, but regardless…it establishes much of our “insider” knowledge of being a mangaka.
Details aside, the difference between bakuman and reality is that it is a story…obviously. But because it’s a story, we know that there is going to be a happy ending, a catharsis. He will get the girl and write the manga that becomes an anime yadda yadda. Hardship is character growth, narrative setup. Real life is not so kind….you might fail and never succeed and have your dreams taken away from you.
Lets paint a picture.
Rin matsui is in his early 20s. He does a one shot for dear anemone, while he is an assistant on my hero academia. He looks forward to his big shot and gets it. It a battle horror manga, not a common genre. He gets to serialization. His dreams come true…he is in shonen jump.
He gets the ranking back the next day or so, ( we only have the toc to go by, not an exact rank, and this is assuming the 7 week rule applies somewhat) and he ranks relatively low. A death sentence almost from the start. People online see the first ranking(much later mind you so he has to wait months knowing its coming) and scream DOA. It should have done x or y or would have worked in a seinen magazine. Weve heard all the arguments. They are blase at best, often repeating the same thing.
Maybe he frequents sites like 5ch and 2ch, and sees people ripping it apart by the second chapter. Talking about the similar looking characters, and meandering plot, and lack of intrigue. “God some of those criticism online are pedantic and infuriating, even if they have a point” is what I would think if I were him. Im not him though.
Heres some context as well. Rin matsui is doing the artwork with ink and paper, not digitally. He chose to do absurdly detailed art this way when most others in the magazine use a computer. Some might call this stupid, some might be more impressed….but the few weeks he missed his page counts make sense in light of this. Most people don’t know this though.
And then you have to hear people calling you “lazy” or “not ready” online.
And of course, by his second or third week, he was probably already aware he was likely getting axed…even if it wasnt official yet. Actually imagine what it must feel like to write a story knowing you have already failed by the time you just started.
I Couldn’t do it.

“Good” Criticisms of Dear Anemone….or why being constructively critical is hard unless you know what you are talking about.

Being a mangaka is hard in another sense. It is technically hard. You have to be good at both Art and storytelling.
Most people can spend a lifetime learning art or storytelling, let alone both. Mangakas have to be competent at both disciplines, and combine them as well. Novelists can focus on just their writing, artists on their form and composition, but no….a mangaka needs to know both.
Which is why criticism can often seem misinformed, disingenuous and cynical to the point of being useless. Here are some fancy schmancy “critical thoughts”
“Dear anemone has a fascinating premise that invokes the terror of nature to create a visceral tone of body horror rarely seen in Jump. However, it doesn’t leverage this premise very well after the first chapter, ditching its horror elements and becoming a traditional battle manga by the second chapter. Moreover, its characters lack interesting motivations, are hard to distinguish from a visual perspective and even though the art is stunning, it can be hard to track what is happening at times.
It sets up mysteries and intrigue, but resolves many of them a few chapters in, undermining the strength of its own premise. In Terms of plotting, it seems to just drag the protagonist along on events rather than him having agency in the plot, and the lack of characterisation for the side characters amplifies the degree to which this feels like marionettes being led by a storyteller, rather than an organic character led tale.
A few interesting twists were introduced later on, the other characters were also hybrid creatures, which explains perhaps why they were underdeveloped at first, maybe this is now a battle royale….. but the twist came too late. The problem is there is no sense of overarching narrative progression. We reached the lab by the third chapter, spent a few more there introducing antagonists instead of fleshing out main characters, and then got the data we were looking for in the most anticlimactic way, which did nothing to change the complexion of the plot. Imagine if the basement in attack on titan was this uneventful……”
Where is this criticism from?
Well….its mine. If I am doing this exercise I might as well be self- critical. This sound fine and dandy but really pay attention to this criticism. Its nothing original, it’s just fanciful speech reiterating points others have made but consolidating it into one passage.
What is actual constructive criticism? Its criticism as a form of kindness…that tries to meet a work for what it is and yearns for it to be the best version of itself. Its not like the passage above… a cynical kind of distanced critique that pretends to understand narrative and art. Instead…. it has humility. To do this you have to have empathy yes…but also insight, genuine literacy at art and writing. That passage written by me, is frankly useless. Junk not worth the effort put in by Rin matsui no matter how many issues Dear anemone has.
And this only really hit me when I saw he removed mention of dear anemone from his twitter.

“Im sure they will come back in the future, and I look forward to their next work!”

How many times have we heard this platitude? The fact that its true doesn’t make it less platitudinous, but regardless, this is how most threads compassionate about the hardship about being a mangaka go when news of an axed serialization comes out. We saw it with mamayuyu, phantom seer, red hood….rookies trying to make it big and that have talent, but just lacked that special something to make things click.
This isnt a pity party, im sure they wouldnt want it either…. this is what they signed up for. There is a three strike rule apparently, again another piece of “knowledge” from bakuman. And it does happen, Horikoshi from MHA only struck it big on his third serialization. People grow and change and hone their craft.
But we can just say this, they have to actually go out and do it. Face the circus again when they had a failed serialization. This takes guts in itself. Fusai Naba came back with Kyokute Necromance after aliens area within 2 years ….a quick turnaround. What is he met with?
“Its too soon, his writing is still mediocre, not another damn exorcist manga(I’m guilty of this), the lead character doesn’t stand out, the plotting of the first chapters is a little dry, it was boring, its tries too hard” etc etc
Yet he still came back and is facing the music, choosing a safer theme which makes sense, and is on twitter happy he is back, and even heralded as the author of aliens area. It wasnt pushed under the rug. We call it axed, but shueisha doesn’t actually frame it that way, it was just a completed serialization. The series has fans ….pretty good for “failed art”

The Spirit of an artist

I’m not going to be so pretentious so as to presume to be able do the kind of critique any artist deserves, but in an optimistic twist of fate, right after a time skip chapter that usually signals a mangas inevitable end(into a bizarre alice in wonderland esque twist ….what are you cooking mr matsui?), Rin Matsui tweeted about dear anemone again.
https://twitter.com/ELECTRO_RING/status/1789771892062027803
本日発売週刊少年ジャンプ24号に「Dear Anemone」第12話が掲載されております。たまたま目に入った一コマでも見て頂けたらとても嬉しいです。
“Chapter 12 of "Dear Anemone" is published in the 24th issue of Weekly Shonen Jump, which went on sale today. I would be very happy if you could take a look at even just one frame that happens to catch your eye.”
I thought the least I could do is respect his wishes.
The man’s art is legitimately stunning.
https://twitter.com/DailyFairy24/status/1789759301864628698/photo/1
And so all I can hope for with dear anemone and Rin Matsui is that he recognize his own talent. Yes I can say I hope he comes back, and I look forward to his next work, and he improves at his craft, but more than that….I hope dear anemone is acknowledged for what it is…with all its flaws. Art isnt just a product, it’s a process….a living testament to the blood, sweat and tears an artist puts out into the world that documents a journey only one person has ever been through. I don’t know whats going through Rin Matsuis head….but all I can say is that his work is more meaningful than the words we use to critique it ever will be.
I hope he sees that too.