Greetings

In favor of the sentiments withheld by many a critic of the modern age (and their numbers are scored by the populous itself), I have invoked in me a process of imagination something beautiful, like the concept of imagination itself. Truthfully, I am endlessly critical myself of my own sentiments, a curse which overbears deathly dread upon me in awful plagues. My salvation is dependent on the creative works of my deepest impulses, which have been judged as dark, insane, moronic, and generally not worth the breath. My followers are few and far between, and few, I predict, will ever see these words. But still, popularity is of the utmost banishment in my book, for my unreasonable residence in the labyrinthian suburbs, embedded in deep woods and surrounded by miles of fields, has stricken me to the pen and the paper - or in this case, the keyboard and the monitor.

I have spent many years pondering the physics of the written word so brutally that, at least in my own domain of judgment, I have become something of a master of the word and the thought; many people strive to combine theory with practice (as such is the basis of all problems in the philosophical world), yet I believe, in my own way, I have found a bridge between the two through the medium of writing and thought. I have made many works and experimented at length with the science of creativity. The following two posts will showcase my most relevant works, which have been organizationally revised for the sake of practicality. There is a world in my head which has seen the journeys of many people, but no journey compares to one on which you and I are about to embark.

I suggest, for the sake of your imaginative salvation, that you come on this journey with me, which I will try to resolve of length and tedium through mental tangibility of textual devices, and share with me the warmth and envy of knowing - that is, knowing we live in a world just as much as we live outside of it, the world of our imagination.

Thank you.