Through the sands of time and conniving mimes, a flicker of abrupt joy danced above the heads of a few. These few banded together and, 'neath the descent of Solstice into Equinox, became real. Before, they were not real, but instead mannequins, little pieces of insignificant debris flying around a street corner, a speck of dust on a window ledge, not fit for human consumption. Brought upon late, these souls, some tortured, some careless, some carefree, and some broad, set about making one hell of a racket.



And they were the epitome of the name they took upon themselves to be known as henceforth...



SERENE DELIRIUM



To go mad... quietly. Paradoxical, to be sure, but still amusing to our purile minds.

(C) Serene Delirium 2006