Why things are awkward between me and semisomna
She stood on my neck, insulting me in strange dead slang dialects of Latin which were only known to Heresy Priests. How did she know them, when they were never written down? I heard a liar tell me she had never been born, that a Julia was merely necessary for the universe to exist. The truth is much simpler: she’s just this awesome bitch who nobody on our continent is cool enough to hang around with anymore. We tried getting her to come back but the travel life swept this living library up and now she’s a bookmobile, or maybe a crimson pleasure cruiser yacht, floating alone on the Dead Sea while composing mock anti-Freemason cartoon shows.
