stockvault-lone-street-light103470No matter how dark the heart, a glimmer of hope must remain… or some other such rot.

However you want to put it, this, I fear, is a fatal flaw in my writing. While I can create incredibly vile villains with intentions wholly wicked and methods incredibly obscene, I inevitably hide a kernel of, well, good somewhere in their withered-up, craggy-edged souls.

Just as a very young Van Gogh once lamented to his brother Theo that he feared he could never draw just landscapes because his brush would always find something figural in the scene, I cannot write a night without the promise of a day.


Or is it?


Until tomorrow…


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