The Writings of Death

Welcome to a world of contextual reverie, where the beholder is key to the benign.  No one wanders astray far, for the loches of forest wanderlust to the kin of thine own.

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Is there a world of peril, or there a world where one can be free?  The questioner asks the answer and the world keeps turning.

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One thing is for sure.  Death exists, and lurks at every corner.  There is no peril but one sought, and no grave degree can seek thee without thy own assertion.

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Peril, and be free.

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Author,

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Wowie Mayer