Surrounded by the Northwest forests near the sea, the grasses grow tall over the mossy, crumbling, sun warmed, granite and marble slabs of a forgotten churchyard. The old willow, creeped over with woodbine honeysuckle, sways its green tendrils in the rising mists of the evening, scented with withered roses, muget, and violets, to the lonesome music of a creaky ironwork gate in the shore breeze.
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Interests
Gothy artsy wiccany ghosty old stuff mostly. Oh, and techno/disco.
