The Music Box by =Obsidian-Siren on deviantART

Once again I find myself resting upon the window seat of my favorite room. The room I speak of is my sitting room, which in this case resides in the property right outside of Paris. This is where I come when I feel the need to escape the mortal dole drums of day-to-day life. The night is cold and being close to water the fog is thick enough to be created for a horror movie. The atmosphere around the estate does not bother me. It’s the kind of thing legends of vampires and the like are made of. Having just celebrated another birthday, I find myself again thrust into the past and into that state of . . . Nostalgia! ( Memories )