It seems his effects have rubbed off on me. The radiance of him is prevalent in this fine little piece, quelling the aptitude and clarity, perhaps a reflection of my still mangled psyche.
My text on this page is far more literate and readable than the garbled scrawls I still seem unable to rid myself of. For any of you no-one who wish to follow this little embankment of mine, I would not rely too heavily upon my current camera-captured antics. Whilst my words may seem calm, if unstable, my physical being is, sadly, still a mess.
Much like a fire-stained bramble, this burnt thorn has many a way to go before sense starts to crack these distraught walls.