it tolls for thee

Belle and I met.

We sat under a velvet sky, and played cards in grass greener than envy. And the cards spoke, and the things they said were shocking, and true.
As though on cue, the wind threw the Shout Out Louds Please Please Please over us, like a shroud. The wind flicked her ashen hair, and the hem of her dress caught the song and danced.
Two gypsies were we, once again, drunk with promise. No one could trace our steps, no one would know the shapes we carved into the air, as though we were masters of John Uskglass' magic, his old alliances of wind and earth and rain and fire.
The world is ours, again.

Also, Belle wore a pair of red Converse, which I must remind myself to purchase.

One thing I forgot to mention, in some of the earlier texts, was my fascination with A.C. Grayling. Surely the man must be proud, to furnish a book with his most private opinions?