I had started out subtly: a passion for darkness and the night and a
desire to hoard... books, of course, and music, for the child
stubbornly refused to take interest in gems or
precious metals beyond a careless affection for silver.
But as she grew older, I grew more bold. I gave her a
draconic contentment for sitting still and a soaring heart. I filled
her dreams with flying...
It is cruel to give the love of flight with no hope for expression, so
I pushed her towards music. It's almost funny to watch when she turns
up the volume on her stereo system, throws out her arms, and spins around on
her wobbly human legs, or the way she curls up in an awkward fetal position
and listens, bobbing her head and riding every chord like an emotional gust of
wind...
continue--->