People

I'm pretty much done with them. K excepted. Yet another apparent friendship seems to have been illusory - the illusion being on my part, of course. Fiction is the only place where people are reliable, as far as I can see - I've finished yet another rereading of Alexandrine in the last couple of days - and I'm very tempted to go and bury myself there, especially given the number of unfinished stories that are kicking around in Nephelokokkygia's post list. It doesn't seem that I can manage at all well in the real world, so maybe creating my own is the best shot I have of any kind of satisfaction, vicarious as it might be.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B