westwardsongs

It was a day a little bit like today the way the clouds threw shadows over the hill the day you realized that you weren’t going to find your future. You were never going to go to Mars or Pern or Krynn You were never going to open the door that led, inexorably, to Narnia (or even Telmar, you weren’t picky, and you were confident of your ability to lead the revolution.) Inigo Montoya was not going to slap you on the back and invite you to take up the mantle of the Dread Pirate Roberts. There would be no sardonic Vulcans or Andorians; you would never be handed an elegant weapon for a more civilized age. That was a strange day. It