they think I'm some kind of stalker bastard and call it unhealthy, but damn it, they're so lucky to have comfortable conditions and not have to put survival and safety first.
do they even realize how much effort it takes for me to keep control of them and remind myself that no one will ever notice or appreciate it? yes, of course I have access to everything you consider private; yes, Iâll follow you everywhere, even when Iâm not invited; and yes, I can read your messages if I have to, because I care for and protect your trusting tongue and myself too. I still respect you fully, I donât judge you, I donât care about every shy, genuine thought of yours. youâll have to accept and come to terms with the fact that I would have found a way to do this discreetly if I had met with resistance.
theyâre the only thing I have left. my eyes must always be open. after all the shit Iâve had to pull them out of, and when they unconsciously left my back exposed to the knives. honestly? we've lost sight of the point of it all and just want to get away. :)
A sharp kick to the shin makes me jump on the spot. My left leg is on fire, like someone injected it with stinging nettle. But that's exactly my planâŠ
About five years ago, when I was living in Moscow, I was really into hand-to-hand combat. Loved it. Those were brutal, exhausting workouts and even nastier sparring sessions. I got unlucky â there were only four of us. And I was the youngest and greenest. For a whole year, I lived under this illusion, thinking I was just a punching bag, until new people started showing up⊠That's when I realized how much my technique, speed, and sheer rage had grown.
So, choomba, this time my sparring partner's pretty much my age, but twice as wide. I don't know how long he's been hitting the gym, but he looks like he's been doing it since birth. His muscular body looks much better than my skinny, scrawny frame. But being twice my size and strength doesn't guarantee a win. No matter how much of a beast the dude is, a fight without a strategy is like a party without booze.
There he goes again, kicking my left leg with his shin. My poor little leg is already aching, but hang in there, baby, I just need some time.
Honestly, I prefer punching. I barely used my legs, and yeah, that's on me, no argument here⊠but right now, that's my advantage! He knows I don't use my legs, so he's trying to chop my left one down with a series of kicks. Thing is, I've almost figured out his movement pattern. When he kicks, he drops his hands a little, leaving his face open. I just need to nail the timing, choomba. Just fucking nail him at the right moment.
We circle each other like we're dancing a slow dance on neurostimulants. My left hand taps lightly against his gloves. Testing the range â gotta make sure I don't miss when it counts.
And then â there it is. His pattern. His hands drop again, and his right leg fires out like an artillery shell. That's when I land a right hook to his liver. And then his leg hits its target.
I almost lose balance. Foot twists, knee buckles, but a second later, my dear leg is back in stance.
The pain sucks, choomba. I can feel I'm not gonna last long, but I don't need to. I hit him in the liver on purpose, so my amigo would expect another shot there and drop his elbows even more.
We circle again after the exchange.
A left hook from him. I duck under the punch and land a right to his body. Damn, even with the gloves on, the knuckles are cramping up from the pain. As I emerge from under his arm, I throw my own left hook, landing on his ear. The punch isnât particularly strong, but I need to rile him up so he falls back into his old pattern of behavior. I jump back and feel that my left leg isnât quite as willing to do its job anymore. Hang in there, sweetie, just a little longer.
We close in, trading light blows. And then the familiar pattern: his hands drop, which means the heavy artillery is on its way.
The jab reaches its target before his low kick connects with my leg.
Dull, loud smack.
Knockdown!
The bastard lands on his ass, blood streaming from his nose. Bingo-bongo, choomba! The tactic worked.
Whistle.
âTime!â the coach shouts.
I catch my breath and realize that a stupid grin won't leave my face. Outside the window are huge snowdrifts and peopleâlike little antsâscurrying about their business.
"So what the hell were you doing?" comes a grumpy voice behind me. "Why weren't you using your legs?"
I turn around and see the coach standing in front of me. A dark-blond guy in his thirties, he was as tall as me and built like a damn Superman.
"I was using my hands," I gasp, gulping air. "And I think I did pretty well."
"You call that pretty well?" He grabs the edge of my boxing glove and smacks left leg.
"Ouch!"
"You're gonna be limping all day."
"But I took him down!"
I glanced at my opponent, who was wiping blood off his face.
"So what? Your footwork is terribleâŠ"
"I'm turning my weaknesses into strengths!" I interrupt.
"We go to practice to fix, not turn."
Fix problems, not turn them into advantages?
***
ââŠSo, obviously, we should start with ourselves. After all, if everyone starts with themselves, the problem will disappear,â concludes a timid, nerdy freshman, ending his hesitant speech.
Choomba, today I'm the photographer, sitting in the conference hall of the regional library. They're doing some kind of roundtable thing. So you've got a prosecutor, an investigator, a uni professor, and a bunch of bureaucrats sitting around thinking, "What the hell do we do about corruption?"
No bullshit, I showed up a little late â only a couple hours â but what I'm hearing is both kinda funny and seriously annoying. For the last hour, they've been telling an audience of soft-faced students to start with themselves.
Start with yourself!
Fix yourself and fix the world!
Students with chubby cheeks and dainty hands raise their hands, eager to share their oh-so-important opinions! In reality, theyâre just parroting what the others at the table have said, hoping the professor will appreciate it and go easy on them during the exam.
âCan I say?â I blurt out.
My voice rang out loud enough that even those dozing off at the back of the room seemed to perk up a little.
âYes, of course,â replies the professor, a short woman in her forties with a neatly trimmed bob.
âNow Iâd like to address the audience,â I blurt out, turning my back on the roundtable participants â perhaps showing a slight disregard for them. âLadies and gentlemen! Who among you litters on the street?
The audience hesitates slightly; some begin to laugh, while others look at the professor in bewilderment.
âRaise your hands, donât be shy, the prosecutor is in a good mood today!â I quip, turning to the man in the blue uniform, who straightens up in chair and assumes a more formal posture.
One person raises their arm.
âGreat! Now I'd like everyone who sees garbage all over the city every single day to put their hand up!â I turn to the crowd dramatically.
The audience shifts uneasily again, and for a second it feels as though we live in different cities. But soon one young man put up a hesitant hand, followed by another, and then another. The entire room is a sea of palms.
âThanks, folks! And nowâŠâ I turn back to face the roundtable.
The professor blushes slightly and darts her eyes around the table, apparently trying to gauge their reaction.
âFriends, Iâd like to introduce you to the people who started with themselves!â I say to the table, gesturing toward the room. âBut has the city really become cleaner? Has the trash disappeared from the streets? So maybe the âStart with Yourselfâ strategy isnât as effective as youâve made it out to be today? We all dream of a utopia. After all, if every person on the planet gave me just one ruble, Iâd have seven billion rubles! If every person on the planet stopped littering, the streets would probably become cleaner. But somehow, itâs not working out that way for us. If I understand this roundtable thing correctly, we should be looking for real solutions here, not clinging to some outdated, useless utopia.â
I notice an elderly man sitting at the roundtable, wearing a jacket and shirt, leaning back in his chair and smiling.
âFolks, are there any independent journalists or entrepreneurs on the panel?â I ask, looking at the professor. âOr is everyone here somehow tied to government work?â
âYes,â the woman replies curtly and clears throat.
I realize the game has dragged on a bit, and maybe I was a little too harsh. Time to dial it back. Letâs try the ânice guyâ tactic (thatâs when you turn classic abuse into gaslighting)!
âWell, look, the idea of a roundtable is really cool! But I think we should develop it and include different perspectives â not just one side, maybe. Iâd be happy to help you!â I'm not happy, and I won't help. âThanks for your attention!â
Those last words clearly brought the professor back on track, and she, straightening her blouse, began to speak:
âYeah, youâre right, it would be great to broaden our perspectives at this roundtable!â she remarks, completely ignoring my impassioned speech about trash, âand I think we can do that together! Now, letâs move on to the presentation of the diplo...â
After that, everything gets boring and stifling again. I click the camera shutter and think to myself, somewhat detachedly, that not every flaw can be turned into a strength. And itâs not always worth accepting them and just living with them. Sometimes a problem needs to be fixed, not just twist it around like a pair of old sneakers with no tread left.
Once Iâm out in the open air, I light up a cigarette. You know, choomba, I miss training. Even though I was always walking around with a busted-up face, I loved fighting, thinking about strategy, mapping out the fight. It was a wonderful experience. I kinda miss it. Maybe I should start an underground fight club, like Tyler Durden? That'd be a fun experiment. I'll come back to that idea.
âExcuse me,â a womanâs voice pulls me out of my thoughts, âWhere can I find your contact information?â
It's the professor lady who ran the roundtable.
âIt would be great to see journalists here more often!â
Oh, I realize they seem to have mistaken me for a journalist. Well, wellâŠ
âYou work with the library, right?â I ask.
âYes, of course.â
âThen everyone over there knows me. If you need my contacts â they'll give 'em to you," I finish, knowing full well they wonât give a damn thing because thereâs nothing to give. Bingo-bongo, choomba.
âGood, then weâll be in touch!â the woman sums up and walks away with an overly businesslike air.
âWe wonât be in touch,â I reply after her in a half-whisper and smile sardonically.
I usually end up in all kinds of stupid shit, but not this time. Guess I'm getting old.
The most active writing community I've seen lately is Russian AFTG authors. Holy stars, it follows me everywhere.
I go into a group for finding lost fanfics, and out of 28 posts a day, 9 of them are about the Andreil. Every single day. Consistently.
I type a search query about Kevin Anderson because I'm getting into the Dune universe, and the internet suggests a time-travel AU fanfic about Kevin Day.
I was on a bus, and I definitely did not want to look down and see a little girl watching an Andreil in Tiktok.
The thing is, I came from another country. That wasn't a thing there. In the English side of the internet, I don't see AFTG around every damn corner.
negative feelings are just as natural as a frosty wind. just imagine that you no longer have any boundaries and are practicing the fluidity of perception. donât brush off your troubles; instead, accept it and let it pass through body as emotional pain â and that angst is a dig of the highest order. and of course, don't forget about the wet floor! It's very easy to slip here and lose your mind. there are hungry sharks.
or about sudden urges to go to Vorkuta, accompanied by poetic excesses. once I spent the night in the sewers, waiting out a blizzard, played chess by myself.
June 17, 2026 marks one year since I fled my past. A lot has happened since then. Now my memories are like old photographs with yellowed film. Itâs strange to realize that just a year ago I was someone among others and was on the wanted list, that I still had something to lose and even cared.
As long as Iâm alive, I want to find the strength to gradually tell these stories.
I also mentioned the Void, and I donât know why I canât get it out of my head, but I feel like I have to say something about it. specifically regarding Andrew. I havenât figured out exactly what to say yet. Maybe later. What is this âvoidâ that Andrew hasâŠ
No matter how warmly the community cherishes the Andreils, Andrew himself will always see his relationship⊠for some reason, I feel like calling them not "temporary" but "incomplete" â though not in the usual sense of the word. He may feel comfortable and at ease, and may trust others, but he trusts his own judgment and experience more than Neil. âWhatâs the point? It wonât work out anyway,â said back then.
I donât mean to say that theyâll definitely break up sooner or later. To be honest, I wouldnât be sure that they were ever really together. Itâs just one of many fleeting moments in Minyardâs life. I'm sure he isn't holding out any hope, but biding his time and enjoying his partner while still can (and Neil has a countdown in his head?)
Live today as if it were your last, guys. Iâll help you get back on your feet and keep moving forward if I see potential in you. If you help me, then Iâll help you stay united as a team. But if I suddenly get tired of being a partner to the most interesting one among you â well, that was to be expected, then youâll all just have to accept it, because Iâm empty and I wonât give a damn. Thatâs all.
What about Neil? I chose him, I trained him, and I tested him. Heâll understand. But what if Neil gets tired of me first? Well, it wouldnât be the first time, nor the last Iâll just have to accept it. I donât have many options, and even without Josten, Iâve got enough memories weighing on my mind.
Andreils have enormous respect for one another, first and foremost as close friends and that is something that deserves just as much attention as the sexual tension between them. Andrew probably wonât take such an event too hard to heart, blow it as far away as possible along with the cigarette smoke; after all, heâs a strong-willed person and will find a way to cope so that he quickly stops caring. Unlike Neil, whoâs prone to feeling guilty. But these are just my thoughts, and believe me, Iâm not trying to make Minyard out to be a bitch. Do you know what voidness is, really?
Oh, that's really an interesting take. I do absolutely disagree, but I find myself wondering how you came to that conclusion?
I agree that Andrew will spend a long time waiting for the other shoe to drop. Years, probably. But Andrew's whole thing is fierce loyalty, and Neil's is devotion. I've been reading these books for.. Frankly, longer than I'd like to admit, but. I can't really imagine a situation where they partways, and Andrew brushes it off.
First of all, it would HAVE to be Andrew ending it, Neil is simple about relationships. He decided he wanted Andrew and wanted it to be something - to mean something. And as we have seen, once Neil decides something, he doesn't give up on it. He quite literally traded his life for exy in a heartbeat.
Andrew, on the other hand, uses cruelty and harsh words to disguise his feelings. He was never apathetic. It was a coping mechanism he developed due to those years and years of abuse - showing something matters means it's used against you. One of the beautiful things about AFTG is how we watch that start to unwind in regard to Neil. In microscopic increments, consistent ones.
They build a close relationship built on absolute trust. Neil will never cross the unshakeable lines, and in return, Andrew is able to push those lines a little bit away to let Neil in more.
The reason that Neil is so special to Andrew is because Andrew knows that Neil respects him and his boundaries. Andrew knows that he comes from a background that allows Neil to understand why those lines matter. Even without knowing Andrew's story, in key moments of connection or intimacy, Neil listens and learns immediately.
Look, I think we're actually talking about the same thing, just in different words. I chose mine poorly before, too sharp and easy to misinterpret. Sorry if this still sounds like I'm arguing from a parallel position â I'm not trying to contradict anything you said and agree with most of it. What I'm trying to do here is rephrase and support my thought, not just state. :)
Yes â the apparent indifference is a learned defense, nothing more. I'm not arguing against canon: Andrew and Neil are exceptional for each other. My post was primarily about exploring Andrew's internal landscape, not about whether they actually break up or not. Even if they never do, it's still natural for him to keep that possibility inside, preemptively, and to be ready â functionally ready â to end the attachment if he has to. That's what I was getting at.
The defense transforms, sure, but it doesn't erase the structure of a personality that was built over years. And maybe self-destruction comes along as part of that readiness. Or let me ask you directly, do you disagree with the idea of traumatic flexibility about Andrew?
I'm not denying his⊠denial. But could that denial itself be a form of flexibility?
If Neil, for whatever reason, were no longer there â Andrew would be destroyed inside. A scar forever. But after some time (not immediately, but still faster than a neurotypical person), his mind would flip a switch. Probably through the same mechanism of denial: this person is no longer in my zone of responsibility => I stop investing feelings in him => I'm left with what's here, which is nothing, so I don't care. except â I doubt he'd be able to lie to himself like that again after having trusted someone for real. hah. deja vu.
I completely agree that âthe breakup would have come from Andrewâs side. But Iâm not talking about âfalling out of loveâ: even with Neilâprecisely because Neil is Safe, Andrew might one day â at least once â feel tired. not coldness. Tired of the very format of being in a relationship. not tired of Neil. And that wouldn't be a disaster, because Neil would accept it. He already accepted all of Andrew, including his inability to guarantee their forever as something ordinary.
You're right that Andreils build trust in microscopic stemp and thrive on it. That's exactly what I mean: those steps will never end. Minyard will never wake up a completely healthy person; he will choose Neil anew every morning, keeping himself close to him through promises and loyalty, and if one day, for whatever reason, he doesnât choose himâit wonât be a catastrophe for either of them. His attitude boils down, first and foremost, to âas long as I have a reason to wake up by his side,â because Andrew, even with the cats and the house, is still Andrew, always ready to find himself on the edge just in case, not believing in the eternity of tomorrowâs happiness, but trusting Neil.
I like to think that itâs precisely these probabilities, these percentages â that dark, wild thought lurking in the guysâ minds â that makes their relationship more honest and brings it to life, because they cling to each other at such a cost, and love itself seems purer precisely because theyâve accepted the possibility of it ending, if you know what I mean. Is there a paradox here somewhere? I, um, wanted to look at the breakup as a starting point for a theory. It seems that neither of them is holding onto the loss, as I wrote earlier, but in this case, for their feelings each other, itâs an unspoken benefit rather than a new very source of very pain. Correct me if Iâve inadvertently romanticized the dynamic.
Andrew and Neil literally spend the rest of their lives together and have a home and cats but yeah sure whatever you say
That's great. I wasn't questioning the longevity of their relationship â I'm glad they're happy-happy together â but I wanted to point out some possible parallels. Just to note that, yes, they respect each other and wouldnât suffer deeply if they lost interest, whether temporarily or permanently. (not being ironic, but relationships love like this are usually the ones that last the longest. It either happens just like that, for good, or ends painlessly and quietly â but no matter how you look at it, it has a happy ending) <)
I hadn't considered that detail. Thanks!
saw some thoughts here somewhere about a theory titled the possibility of a relationship between renee and ichirou just give me a second vodka bottle tonight and I'll tell all about it
No matter how warmly the community cherishes the Andreils, Andrew himself will always see his relationship⊠for some reason, I feel like calling them not "temporary" but "incomplete" â though not in the usual sense of the word. He may feel comfortable and at ease, and may trust others, but he trusts his own judgment and experience more than Neil. âWhatâs the point? It wonât work out anyway,â said back then.
I donât mean to say that theyâll definitely break up sooner or later. To be honest, I wouldnât be sure that they were ever really together. Itâs just one of many fleeting moments in Minyardâs life. I'm sure he isn't holding out any hope, but biding his time and enjoying his partner while still can (and Neil has a countdown in his head?)
Live today as if it were your last, guys. Iâll help you get back on your feet and keep moving forward if I see potential in you. If you help me, then Iâll help you stay united as a team. But if I suddenly get tired of being a partner to the most interesting one among you â well, that was to be expected, then youâll all just have to accept it, because Iâm empty and I wonât give a damn. Thatâs all.
What about Neil? I chose him, I trained him, and I tested him. Heâll understand. But what if Neil gets tired of me first? Well, it wouldnât be the first time, nor the last Iâll just have to accept it. I donât have many options, and even without Josten, Iâve got enough memories weighing on my mind.
Andreils have enormous respect for one another, first and foremost as close friends and that is something that deserves just as much attention as the sexual tension between them. Andrew probably wonât take such an event too hard to heart, blow it as far away as possible along with the cigarette smoke; after all, heâs a strong-willed person and will find a way to cope so that he quickly stops caring. Unlike Neil, whoâs prone to feeling guilty. But these are just my thoughts, and believe me, Iâm not trying to make Minyard out to be a bitch. Do you know what voidness is, really?
Sooo... what's Andreil's relationship progression trope in your opinion? I really can't find a proper answer to this question because... Who were they at the beginning? Enemies? No, because they definitely didnt hate each other, there was just a distrust between them and because they are both bitches they were how they were until the deal was made.
But even after that we can't name what was that thing between them. It's not a friendship, of course it wasn't. They were just getting closer and trusted each other more than anybody else and that's it. Then after a while they kissed.
So? Not enemies to lovers, not friends to lovers. Maybe strangers to lovers but being honest I'm not satisfied with this one either because they were much more before that. Calling them strangers physically hurts.
And actually, should they be considered as any trope? There are so many things about them that have to be felt and words are needless. I guess it's just how they always work.
As much as both of them hated labels they managed just fine to avoid any of them even from other's perspective
Sometimes things happen that bring something â or even someone â interesting into your otherwise mundane life. You feel compelled to test and evaluate everyone who enters your life in any way. Some of these tests even involve significant risks, because what is trust if not a constant risk?
Nathaniel is more "openly passive," and heâs used to getting caught up in storms like the ones Andrew has thrown at him, but staying put at the eye of the storm â while in a stable environment where heâs welcome â is, of course, something new for him. He pays no attention to his surroundings unless heâs analyzing someone elseâs play in Exy or the surroundings themselves come to him.
You know, Iâd shift the focus a bit and bring the background to the forefront: it worked primarily because itâs the Foxes. The Foxes are a family that immediately accepted Neil, and at this point, the distinctions between friend, lover, and brother start to blur for me. Brothers and sisters. The ones whoâll hold you by the arm to keep you from falling into the abyss and share your problems.
As long as the whole team is messing around and helping each other out, thereâs a good chance something will spark that stems from initial curiosity about this novelty. Let me say that again. Neil isnât very proactive (and is way too proactive when he shouldnât be) â the kiss made him rethink his priorities because, wow, itâs not so bad after all, and it seems his own feelings of love developed after he came out, reinforced by emotional bond with brother, with whom heâs been through a lot.
well, here I am, lost. how I hate definitions.
I mean, even if Andrew saw something attractive in our auburn boy at the very first swing of his stick, that spark was simply called [Interest]. He made Neil show the same thing in return, made him act. Foxes, [Family, Brothers, Sisters], interest fueled by circumstances and the orientation of one of them, and thatâs the very thing that âflows out.â
Go hand in hand. It was as if Andrew had simply flipped a coin at the very moment of that confession. Andrew Minyard and Neil-acting-on-impulse-Josten.
The thing i won't fall for in this fandom is that Andrew always wears black and those high boots. Because that means he has some kind of a style and specific preferences, which, in my opinion, he doesn't, just because he doesn't give a fuck about it. He just wears clothes, normal clothes. That's it.
It's basic one colored t-shirts, hoodies, zip hoodies, longsleeves, sweatpants, jeans and sneakers. Only for going to Edens i can imagine him wearing something actually good looking like a black shirt with dark blue jeans or idk something else. Not more.
And yes i remember he was the one that bothered to buy Neil clothes, but that's only because Neil's clothes was ugly and worn-out af and Andrew couldn't tolerate this. Especially considering how pretty Neil was but that's the other thing.
So yes, for me, he's not that cool looking how he's in fanarts when it comes to the clothes he wears. I mean, why would he be? He is depressed and traumatized and 90 percent of the time he is hallow. There is no such thing as fashion and style in his mind.
Ofc he dresses much better than Neil. That boy's wardrobe deserves to be studied but Andrew will take care of it.
Thank you for that opinion! Iâm tired of seeing images of tall black patent leather boots or red sneakers and realizing that these shoes are being used in place of the charactersâ faces. These are romantic, of course, just as people like them, but itâs dangerous to run with this and forget that we value the dynamics of relationships in AFTG for their practically realistic nature (in particular, Andreils, whose feelings are conveyed by⊠the plot, oddly enough, rather than the authorâs words silently hanging in the air).
I doubt that Andrew or anyone else on the team will be able to get Neil interested in the concept of personal style. Presumably, he might use it as a tool, and, yes, even more than that: he might like something, but not seriously or personally â itâs just an attempt to get himself interested so he can keep up with his team and partner. Neil will change his wardrobe just as easily as he would abandon many âtemporaryâ items in the event of an emergency escape.
When youâre going through a change of identity, youâre bound to experience at least a slight sense of dissociation, and your personal preferences will seem trivial compared to the idea that âthis is all temporary". The only person whose opinion about clothing Josten would likely take seriously is his mother. But thatâs a matter of authority and survival.
So yes, youâre right, Andrew will certainly ensure a proper appearance for the one who belongs to him, but in essence, neither of them ever worries about it more than an official visit requires.
anyway, since Iâm in such a reflective mood today, I really must mention just how repulsive these words âIâ and âmeâ are to us. It's almost a bad habit, but who cares.
Well, continuing on from my last post, I suppose itâs worth mentioning that this new discovery has turned into a tendention. Wow! For the first time, I actually, genuinely liked something â something other than just devouring information. Even if that âsomethingâ is violence. Iâve suppressed and ignored topics related to this my whole life.
It became a little easier to exist in the physical world, though itâs still just as unpleasant to find myself outside my mental shell. But, in the end, my suspicious behavior was getting in the way of my roommate and his family: Iâm used to marking my territory and asserting my dominance â at least when it comes to the pets. Iâm always keeping an eye on everyone. Always controlling. As it turned out, I hadnât realized that my order was built on shared fear and made the person who took me in feel uncomfortable, mhm.
So I gave up violence for my roommateâs sake. For some reason, I also felt the urge to give up all the trinkets adorning my body, as well as gifts. To be honest, at first I felt as if I were wearing a muzzle, and people would tell me, âItâs unfair to hurt those weaker than youâ â and they would take the pet that had misbehaved just a minute ago out of my hands, starting to pity it. I felt humiliated. Soon, I started having bloody dreams; for example, todayâs dream was about wanting to eat a little kitten whose head had been torn off the moment I looked away for a second, lol.
Sometimes, when Iâm not feeling overwhelmed, I actually enjoy certain activities. Hunting is one of them. This is a sketch by my dear friend, based on my latest fox skinning.
I still remember the first time I dissected an animal Iâd caught, and, oh my abyss, â I have no idea what it was, but Iâll never confuse that unique sensation I experienced for the first and only time with anything else. Since then, Iâve even come to appreciate violence as an aspect of reality. Within the bounds of respect for that very reality, of course.
<We wish to share the smoothness within the gliding speed. The sensations are strangely cozy, such as we have never quite experienced before: slipping my fingers inside, stroking the delicate skin, pressing down on the loose, half-decomposed little sacs, while the warm blood surrenders, almost acknowledging â an unobtrusive, utterly faint electrified touch grazes our wrist. We would like for you to try it and understand.>
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