I suppose that every wanderer started in a garden somewhere. So few of us are born into motion.
Black WineEdinburgh is a great big black bastard of a city where there are ghosts of all kinds.
Ma Polinski's PocketsLike many people who dress in black, the lump of coal was interested in becoming an artist.
The Lump of CoalIn the deep night of metaphysics, all cats look black.
Walter Benjamin or Towards a Revolutionary CriticismBooks can be burned,” croaked Black. “They have a way of rising from the ashes,” said Andreus.
The Wonderful O