There is a great she-warrior who has travelled deep into the inky blackness of the night, fought inhospitable hospital-gowned phantoms and battled scrub-clad demons. She has trudged through her own fears like an insect refusing to be caught in amber. Fate cockily steps forward and tells her how it's going to be and before it can finish she has Fate scrubbing the floors clean. She has emerged on the other side with tales of a monster of incredible stealth and diabolical intent, a monster with such ferocity and persistence that there is no creature in the universe that can defeat it. Period. It is the paramount force. The monster which rules all.
The great thing about three dimensions is that if you take a wrong turn, you can divert, you can correct; You can detour, retrace your steps, lose the proper path and find it again. The fourth dimension, Time, is conversely very limited. There is only one direction. You can not turn left. You can not turn right. You can not backup. You can not stop. You can't even change your speed. How easy a target must we all be then?
In the hollow inky thick blackness of the night, The Wrinkle Monster comes and dances on our faces with his little wrinkle-making feet. He dances a timeless dance and we get older.
I would like to thank my she-warrior for pointing this out as I was sure that the wrinkles were actually just an illusion caused by the tiny bumps on her eyes, but I stand corrected.
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