Our story is the popular myth or illusion of death or ‘unjustifiable annihilation’ of our people.

And the history or place is here in our country.

It is all mapped out in fine detail.

By this I mean, the names of the cities and down to the streets.

If I sound a little melancholy, it is because I lost so many of my friends and neighbors to the war or real death of people who once lived from the same place I use as a map for my imagination when confabulating the story I wish to convey.

Let me just say it is about a machine which I imagine to be a magical ring.

And I have also imagined a place, a language, and a race of people that embody the real people who died in the war that created such a thing as this great fiction.

My hope is we never forget the great sacrifice made by those who have fought and gone before us.

It is important to also note that we are a concurred people who have no myth of our own, and that the only way to obtain a myth or folklore is to survive a great battle where much is lost and destroyed in our great land.

So don’t ever pine for myth or folklore.

This is not a sentimental journey.

Because journey is just a code word for death.

As is folklore and myth.

And as we now know, all this is necessary for a place, a history, a language and a people.

But perhaps, we may learn to settle for less in the future, to find peace in the future and to learn to love, respect and accept different ways to overcome the need for war but not it’s memory.

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