juli

Life is short, though I keep this from my children.

[Qifrey lifting up Coco]

Life is short, and I’ve shortened mine

in a thousand delicious, ill-advised ways,

[Qifrey and Olruggio as children]

a thousand deliciously ill-advised ways

I’ll keep from my children.

[Qifrey alone in his tower, and getting hit with lightning as he experiments with the ink bottle]

The world is at least

fifty percent terrible, and that’s a conservative

estimate, though I keep this from my children.

[A young Luluci running away from abstract, shadowy grabbing hands]

For every bird there is a stone thrown at a bird.

[Qifrey in the waterlogged coffin]

For every loved child, a child broken, bagged,

sunk in a lake. Life is short and the world

[Engendale with his slimy brimmed hat]

is at least half terrible, and for every kind

stranger, there is one who would break you,

though I keep this from my children.

[Qifrey with a peaceful expression, a herd of cattle, flying birds, and a shot of a traveling cart from behind with Qifrey and his apprentices inside]

I am trying

to sell them the world.

[The atelier and the field around it]

Any decent realtor,

walking you through a real shithole, chirps on

about good bones: This place could be beautiful,

right?

[Qifrey showing Coco the windowway in a shower of flower petals.]

You could make this place beautiful.

MAY YOU NEVER LOSE YOUR HYPERFIXATION