foreword

I think you’ve become ugly.

And every time you look at her distant eyes you are haunted by her torment; mind trapped in the clutches of the demons that thrive within it in the night, its shell only barely where it is.

To err is human – yet is it true that only when that errand is done do we see humanity in her? Nay – rather, only when it is done do we see humanity:

The self-conservation of our conservationists,

The culpability of the responsible.

And every time you look at her clouded eyes are you tormented by her haunting? Or are you only obliviously trapped in the clutches your demon, your shell only barely where it is..?