The Monsters We Became or Fell For

| February 10, 2017

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HE
was a gentleman tyrant who lived for his family— even the bastard he was forced to raise.

YOU
could have taken on the world with her by your side yet still you were discarded—the reek of your weakness doubtless overwhelming—and witnessing the pain she had caused only seemed to strengthen her resolve.

I
have always looked out for that neurotic wreck so it’s a crying shame that he would rather lick his wounds in a town he despises than spend summer chasing fresh foreign flesh with his brother. more for me then, I suppose.

THIS
is a filthy narrative, a muddled confessional, a hate crime of passion; it is a darkly comic, unapologetically bitter account of the strange lands and duties whose first lesson for this new century was that the sins of the old are not forgotten.

THIS
is a drunken dance between the hazards of a twisted Britain and a rose-tinted Denmark built with madness in mind—a place Englishmen needn’t bring any demons of their own for there are crawling things enough, and crawl they will, ever closer.

THIS
is the tale of an island, two cities and the monsters we became or fell for.

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