Tuesday, 26 April 2011

xvi verdant fields mean nothing

I want to feel better.

But there’s nothing anybody but Dumbledore can do about that.

It doesn’t matter how verdant its fields or how witty its comedians, how inspired its writers or how beautiful its flowers, the British sky still cries.

Sorry guys.

No question today, unless you can send an old bearded magical man my way.

I don’t honestly care if it’s Dumbledore, or Gandalf, Merlin, or even any one of the many Gods which fill that role. I’ve never had a grandfather and I need one right now.

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