Who are you, that do not know your history?

If ther ever was such a thing as an ugly kid, then this is it. He's almost exquisite in his ugliness. Like a gremlin.

Hard to see big picture behind pile of corpses.

The thing about happiness is that you only know you had it when it's gone. I mean, you may think to yourself that you're happy.
But you don't really believe it. You focus on the pretty bullshit, or the next job, or whatever.
It's only looking back by comparison with what comes after that you really understand, that's what happiness felt like.

I know this. I've been here already. I know this taste – the taste of Damascus Rose obfuscating the truth in a dim haze. They may sweep the traces from my memory, but my body remembers. These cuts speak volumes, even though my mind remains silent.

They will be back. Oh, they will be back.