The auto-da-fé

It won't stop snowing. This isn't funny anymore. If it ever was. Not now. Not now that this may be the winter of our undoing. 'Tis the season of bad moons and black moons, cold stars and colder sunlight. 'Tis the season of ever winter and never Christmas. 'Tis the season of the Inquisitor. All … Continue reading The auto-da-fé