Pulsar: a dying star spinning under its own exploding anarchic energy, like a lighthouse on speed. A star the size of a city, a city the size of a star, whirling round and round, its death-song caught by a radio receiver, light years later, like a recorded message nobody heard, back-played now into infinity across time. Love and loss.

Anger is always detrimental by all means...

No sane local official who has hung up an empty stocking over the municipal fireplace, is going to shoot Santa Claus just before a hard Christmas.

And just remember, kids, three out of four demons all prefer barbecue sauce over hemoglobin." (Simi)

Written By Sherrilyn Kenyon

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