Status Updates From Titus Solo

". . . No! . . . It was all I had; my science, all that I had."
"And she was a lovely girl, I'm told."

There are times when the air that floats between mortals becomes, in its stillness and silence, as cruel as the edge of a scythe.

There is no calm for those who are uprooted. They are wanderers, homesick and defiant. Love itself is helpless to heal them though the dust rises with every footfall [...] – each breath an inhalation from the past so that the lungs, like a miner's, are dark with bygone times.
 Whatever they eat, whatever they drink, it is never the bread of home or the corn of their own valleys. . .