I am currently in the midst of a literary euphoria, unlike the post modernist, cynical yet bland variety of speech and writing I tend to have. It is as if the Muse herself had come, whispering inane ramblings that flow from mind to heart and fingers, allowing this lowly of lowest mortal to type on this blank screen of the future his life, dreams and everyday happenings in the most figurative way.

Some may be surprised, others shocked and many repulsed by such a formless, structureless attempt at writing. However, I like it and in the words of any typical Englishman of any good standing, noble or not, "Bugger off". Yes, the Muse and I seem to be having a lot of fun, which I understand to be the best thing for a deranged individual. Let us hope this sudden inspiration will last more than this night, perhaps the next or dare I wish, until the end of the stars. Needless to say, wishful thinking does not ail a person much so I shall wish upon as many stars as I desire, and pray to the many forms my Muse takes. I shall take my leave now until later when the moon is high. And yes to the sceptics among my faithful yet ignorant readers, I do like mushrooms and I am pretty positive in any nature, that I am a fake. Adieu!