It's LIFE. Life's STRANGE.

When I was a kid, I voraciously read every single Next Gen book in existence. I lived for these stories and begged my parents and grandparents for them as Christmas and birthday gifts. Every penny I made or was given went towards these and I would inhale them like a bag of Skittles.

Then, years later, I got it into my head that being an adult meant scraping away all passion, all the things that made me giddy with childlike joy, so I set my jaw and sold the entire collection for a hundred bucks on Craigslist. What a deal, I thought.

Well, now I'm a Slightly Smarter Adult™️ who has learned the hard way that extinguishing the things that bring you joy doesn't make you cooler or less prone to failure, it just gets rid of the warm, protective buffer that shields you a little bit from the beatings of life.

So for the past few months, I have been scouring every thrift book store I can find and have been snatching up all the Next Gen books that once filled my soul with that pure, electric joy.

Wednesday? Barking?

An angel or a queen? Or is she about to tell your fortune?

Two horsemen aiming their lances, from Manual on the Arts of Horsemanship (Nihayat al-su’l wa al-umniya fi ta‘allum ‘amal al-furusiyya) by al-Aqsara'i. Cairo, 1366.

Ksksksksk.

No no no hehehehe, your one plus one is about to give three.

"Thanks, I—"

There is a loud roar. A knight, a wizard, and an archer run by, chased by a dragon.

"Thank you, I—"

There is a loud crack of a whip somewhere. A naked man is tied to a St. Andrew's cross, a leather-clad woman with a flog looming over him.