"When they are soaked in blood there is no difference between one tree & another." -Mathias Svalina, from Destruction Myth

Chestnuts

I encounter more and more lunatics with each passing day. Ones that tell me about the rapture, ones that tell me about the end of the world, others that tell me business propositions, and others that tell me about their favorite ice cream flavors. They come in all shapes and sizes, but they all have one thing in common. They all look like people I’ve known, or people I’ve encountered before. I know this is a trick. Disguised, every last one of them. How do you address a lunatic? Leave me alone, lunatic. How’s life, lunatic. I’ve missed you, lunatic. I think theses things, but I can’t bring myself to say them.