I had a hero once, I was a protegee while I intended to protect. Faded and flooded by the life streams, I lost him, but I hope he still remembers. In a forgotten language, a tribute ensued, hoping he'd still care.

Come, bark again.

Guibor's Rhythm

Unknown forces make you turn your once beautiful face towards invisible entities, lurking here and there. Your sense of danger is probably now a good thing to use. Because, you know, preservation is what we have left, the only engine that makes it persistent, lively, real...

zeralav