Words turn into images, images into symbols, and then symbols evaporate, returning to the void’s womb. No beginning, no end, only an infinite row of the same question in its various incarnations. The meaning is lost, and in that very state, it blooms, even though it is too late. Hell knows that heaven doesn’t glow anymore.
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| For Your Eyes Only |
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| Show Me the Size of Your Empathy |
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| Away With You, Demon! |
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| The Gardener and Yellowbelly |
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| Close Your Eyes and Let Him Drown |
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| The Long Journey of a Coffee Table |
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| The Last Grain of Magic Pea |
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| An Astronaut's Baby Sister |
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| Wake Him When It's Over |
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| The Prophet's Newfound Blindness |
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