I was going to be an artist. I was going to make big, really impractically big and not at all anthromorphic sculptures. They would each come with a printed out biography that said "this is anoyella. anoyella has a wife and children in the distant past. He can only see in shades of deep deep blue and he has a intuitive understanding of quantum mechanics but he doesn't like to think about it. He can sense that we're in the room with him but he can't hear us. He can only hear jungle sounds and he can only see you if you are deep deep blue.". The sculptures would really be piles of trash. I would sell them to rich people for the yearly salary of a junior nurse. They'd all have remotely detonating explosives hidden inside them. I'd have the detonator and I'd fondle it but I'd never use it because it would only be some Estonian cleaning lady who would lose an eye.

Now I've been not an artist for ten years. Now I'm a software engineer and I'm not like other girls cause I know bash. Now I get paid more than any decent artist but not enough to retire early.

I thought that I would age into dignity and I thought that derangement was the obstacle not the fundament.

This is edna. edna is the right most three posts of this fence and the rails. The left most post is not edna. edna eats on bluebells and the cries of doves. edna will kill again and she burns but she can't be destroyed. Physically she's in the truck but physically she's interred 6 miles beneath the yorkshire moors