500 years, and not a minute wiser… That’s my life all right. Did I wise up in any way? In some perhaps… But when I think about it, in all those years, the only thing I’ve truly become “good” at is loss. Continue reading
My name is Oliver Clean. I may have spent 500 years on a lonely island, but for the time being, I am in my kitchen, busy roasting seafood with vegetables. That’s all there is left from my former life. And that’s all I need. Continue reading
This is The Voice in Oliver’s head, and here is something I want to share – an insight that you couldn’t gain on your own.
This is the Voice in Oliver’s head. My kind exists beyond time and space, yet we do understand the concept of time. But time is not made up of seconds. It is made up of special moments.
This is not Oliver Clean. Oliver is still denying his destiny, pretending to be cut out for a dull, uncomplicated life. But in the depths of his soul, well hidden and far away from his consciousness, an invisible battle is unfurling, a battle to reclaim the purity of his true identity.
This is not Oliver Clean. This is someone else… Something else. Hard to explain. You’ll know in a minute.
I feel the need to expand somewhat on my recent tight-lipped closure, find more words for what I feel. Here they come. I hope you can find in them a meaning of own.
When you spend 500 years on an island, you die more than once. So you think you’ve got used to it. You think you’ve got used to attending your own funerals, and listening to jeremiads. But they never fail to surprise you, both the circumstances of your death and the response of the Universe to it…
The Grim Arrow has closed. Not even 500 years on an island can make a soul bullet-proof. Shit happens. It can’t unhappen.
In search of the Divine, I have found only madness.
My name is Oliver Clean, and for the last 500 years, I’ve been stranded on a lonely island. Have you ever spent 500 years alone? No? Coz’ if you had, you’d appreciate what a divine gift togetherness is. And how fragile…
This is a Grim Arrow Special. I’m publishing it ASAP, outside of my usual slot, in the hope I can help two certain knuckleheads before they entirely blow it…
But wait, let me start at the beginning.
My name is Oliver Clean, and for the last 500 years, I’ve been stranded on an Island. Separate from other human beings, and civilization as a whole, there was little to experience but my own self.
And then I returned.
And shit happened.