My mind is blank as the white canvas that sits in the fresh snow storm. And the wind blows in six directions to keep me off guard. My exposed neck chose a bad day to lose its scarf. Yeah, it's cold, but the light glistens on the ground and the hidden windshields and hoods of cars to keep our eyes warm. All my friends keep passing through for a hot cup of coffee, leaving my temperature suspended as I'm always on the move.
Santa Lucia has yet to be stabbed so we keep our hands warm in her fire and wonder if she was a saint or a witch. But time withholds only the pertinent information pertaining to the facts that we model our lives around. Oh, these stories burn out or boil down with the witches in the pot, yet we hold them with such high regard.
I heard of a new way to play chess. It's backwards, pretty much. Two players start with an empty board and add pieces one at a time, strategically (or randomly) placing them. One opponent can't take the other's until the king is put down (incorporating the king, in this game, is called "engaging" the board"). I'm intrigued.
Murder by Death.
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