I grow morbid, more so than usual, I think, as of the length of this...rest. Relations bode ill. But I suppose it is easy to be forgotten, or at least, not so forefront in one's thoughts after so long away, mm? My existence creeps forth none the less.

Ha. I sound almost youthful, again, in that bratty, whiny putrescence of the adolescent. Minus the knive's edge of wrath, which I fear has dulled with the passing of seasons and friends. Ah well. I will wake once more when the time is appropriate. And, heh, I suppose the bit that matters most to you lot is that I plan then to resume my artistic activities. Ah well. Until then.