Friday, April 17, 2009

Mark Spain Cordoba

Mark Spain CordobaMark Spain ContemplationMark Spain Castilla
But Vorbis died a hundred years ago!"
YES. HE HAD TO WALK IT ALL ALONE. ALL ALONE WITH HIMSELF. IF HE DARED.
"He's been here for a hundred years?"
POSSIBLY NOT. TIME IS DIFFERENT HERE. IT IS . . . MORE PERSONAL.
"Ah. You mean a hundred years can pass like a few seconds?"
A HUNDRED YEARS CAN PASS LIKE INFINITY.
The black-on-black eyes stared imploringly at Brutha, who reached out automatically, without thinking . . . and then hesitated.across the desert.
Death watched them walk away.
[1] Or, if you are a believer in Omnianism, the Pole.
[2] Which were of the one-size-fits-all, tighten-the-HE WAS A MURDERER, said Death. AND A CREATOR OF MURDERERS. A TORTURER. WITHOUT PASSION. CRUEL. CALLOUS. COMPASSIONLESS."Yes. I know. He's Vorbis," said Brutha. Vorbis changed people. Sometimes he changed them into dead people. But he always changed them. That was his triumph.He sighed."But I'm me," he said.Vorbis stood up, uncertainly, and followed Brutha

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