Now the crickets are singing,
The vesper bells ringing—
The cat’s curled asleep in his chair.
I’ll go down to Bill’s Bar
I can make it that far,
And I’ll see if my friends are still there.
Yes, and here’s to the few
Who forgive what you do,
And the fewer who don’t even care.
And the night comes on—
It’s very calm.
I want to cross over, I want to go home,
But she says, “Go back, go back to the World.
--Leonard Cohen Night Comes On
My name is Malorie. I like daydreaming, science, fandom, and the smell of used book stores--honey bees, bicycles, earl grey, and alphabetizing. I don’t like people that say imagination is a waste of time, lousy fountain pen ink, or artificial plant life--spiders, museums, clutter, or the elimination of the oxford comma. Welcome to my world.