Oh my God. . . " Xhex's heart stopped as she looked at him in the mirror. Across his upper back, in a glorious spread of black ink. . . in a declaration that didn't whisper but shouted. . . in a billboard-size front with flourishes. . . Her name in the Old Language.
Sustainable farms are to today's headlong rush toward global destruction what the monasteries were to the Dark Ages: places to preserve human skills and crafts until some semblance of common sense and common purpose returns to the public mind.