Archive: 2003-02-21

(From a comment I just submitted to the BBC Bloogle Story that everyone is talking about) I run an online journal (I hesitate to call it a weblog, I hesitate even more to call it a “blog” because the word…

And the prophacies were made of those threads of time that will certianly be woven, and the time when the veil will be lifted and threads past the veil seen again, and the prophacies speak of a savior, as prophacies…

In the fictional town of Paddock Wood, nessled in the heart of the Garden of England, it isn’t Thursday any more. This is unusual. There’s something very Thursday about the town I grew up in, from the crisp suburbanity of…