Good evening and welcome

MY DEAR FRIENDS, I am here and I want to write. Of fairy stories and thrill seeking, masterbation and mystery. To relate, enthrall, excite and possibly - probably - bewilder. I want you. To let me whisk you on a jaunt from which you will never be entirely the same as you were before meeting me because a tiny crack in your skin has been rather rudely and unexpectedly tussled open and lit on fire. It burns doesn't it? Smoulders. And you don't really know why, except that some things inside you just don't quite fit into the same shapes they formerly did. They don't fill in the same blanks regardless of how you try to wriggle them around and manipulate them. Let's call it some form of evolution going on in there. An awakening perhaps. Not quite your cup of fine bone china, normally I know you wouldn't even probably pass the time of day with large dramatic landscapes typefaced by bold inspirational quotes and the name of some famous person. But this is different. It's fucking happening to you, I mean it's really happening to you. And you fucking know it. The big question I suppose is where does it all lead? Or questions... because, in fact, where will it stop? Does it stop? I mean, where do you know to draw the line. It must be somewhere, right? Because lines are likely one of your specialties. They were once mine. Lines are nice and safe, less drama, less unpredictability, mostly just less. So are you sitting down? Got your ruler and ballpoint out at the ready like the big guns they are? Put them away so, come along this goat track on the hillside with me instead I dare you, and we shall see in what direction the winds like to lead us astray. I know, I can't wait either.