à la rue des Quatre-Vents, please.

Mix some good booming metal, awesome opera and a constant pathos, with grunge and fallen angels, master Tolkien and a great amount of evilly sarcasm. I bet you have found my dingy sullen room called themaltesesword.

A windswept rue Tirechappe with sodden leaves at each side of the quay. Too much of a dreamer, but often too tired to return to real worlds. You'll always find me watching how the last light of the vanishing sun makes the Caradhras glow red.

Join me whenever you like, I'll be delighted to make your acquaintance.