Fable Factory
House of Cards
Welcome, weary traveler! To my humble abode. Come, come. I'll show you
A Dead River is All I Want
You know those instances when we start off in the wide, turbulent currents of a river making its way downstream?
In the absence of a light source
Grief is a lonely river, like a fisherman's song with an empty net
The Faceless Old Woman Who Secretly Lives in your House
If they knew, your mother would have said, “It’s in your head, darling,” and your father would have screamed, “Put that head in the toilet bowl where it belongs.”
Leafhopper under the vast purple sky
In that world, ignorance amassed like water near the roots of a cypress tree.
The Last Few Fries
The place had no soul or spirit left, and it was evident in the colourless walls, the unclean glasses, the empty eyes of the server who left me a menu card.
Fable Factory / So long, goodbye
As I turned around to reply, she was gone.
Fable Factory / Love will live
Or will you bloom into a new life with me?
Fable Factory / Storytellers
“It was where people crafted stories, my boy!”
House of Cards
Welcome, weary traveler! To my humble abode. Come, come. I'll show you
A Dead River is All I Want
You know those instances when we start off in the wide, turbulent currents of a river making its way downstream?
In the absence of a light source
Grief is a lonely river, like a fisherman's song with an empty net
The Faceless Old Woman Who Secretly Lives in your House
If they knew, your mother would have said, “It’s in your head, darling,” and your father would have screamed, “Put that head in the toilet bowl where it belongs.”
Leafhopper under the vast purple sky
In that world, ignorance amassed like water near the roots of a cypress tree.
So long, goodbye
As I turned around to reply, she was gone.
The Last Few Fries
The place had no soul or spirit left, and it was evident in the colourless walls, the unclean glasses, the empty eyes of the server who left me a menu card.
Love will live
Or will you bloom into a new life with me?
Storytellers
“It was where people crafted stories, my boy!”
Concrete sorrow
We grasp on and we hold tight.
