There were no survivors.
Daily Show correspondent Michael Che tries to find a safe place to report from.
[bottles up feelings and lets them age for 10 years like a fine wine]
1998 Gaming Magazine
Hindsight is hilarious.
playstation: how long does it have?
into eternity and forever
Project X: is it for real?
Dreamcast: can it be stopped?
in its tracks
nintendo 64: can it survive
it could survive the seventy-fifth annual hunger games armed with nothing but a mildly rotten cantaloupe and a set of assembly instructions for an ikea desk
Finding pure comfort and Love within mySelf was the greatest medicine I could have ever taken.
Then the boat turned towards me, and stayed its pace, and floated slowly by within my hand’s reach, yet I durst not handle it. It waded deep, as if it were heavily burdened, and it seemed to me as it passed under my gaze that it was almost filled with clear water, from which came the light; and lapped in the water a warrior lay asleep.
A broken sword was on his knee. I saw many wounds on him. it was Boromir, my brother, dead. I knew his gear, his sword, his beloved face. One thing only I missed: his horn. One thing only I knew not: a fair belt, as it were of linked golden leaves, about his waist.
Boromir! I cried. Where is thy horn? Whither goest thou? O Boromir! But he was gone. The boat turned into the stream and passed glimmering on into the night. Dreamlike it was, and yet no dream, for there was no waking.