Sublime

The Gods are all here. Because the gods are in us.

We are still permanently trapped somewhere between the heroic and the pitiful. We are still godly; that’s what makes us so monstrous.

the gods are at the rave – two pills deep into dancing –

Our morality is still learned through experience gained in these cities in all of their rage and their tedium

All men are weaklings, all women are whores. And they will have their power, two starving mouths desperate to devour, to digest the flesh of the city that raised them so sour, a hunger for vengeance that never sleeps but endures. A hunger satisfied every night but every morning restored. In the old days they would have been warriors swords singing

Jane – Brand New Pandora, legs crossed on the floor, with the lid off the box, heart full of shame and stomach in knots, no going back, she must learn to forgive herself and move on, ’cos what happens in love is beyond right or wrong.

Millions of characters, each with their own epic narratives singing it’s hard to be an angel until you’ve been a demon.

It was like she’d reconnected with a strength she had forgotten she possessed. Her heart beat like wings in her chest.