I’d like to say a huge thank you to Colin Davies for hosting me here on the first day of The Cursed Blog Tour. Cursed is the third in my dark tales from Innsmouth series, and I must admit that it’s currently my favourite. The novella is based around the idea of storytellers telling scary stories and this is something that I’ve always found fun.
As a matter of fact, I find true ghost stories so much fun that the book launch, which will take place online on Monday March 1st, is going to be mostly about sharing ‘true’ ghost stories and very little about promotion and urging readers to buy copies of Cursed.
So, rather than my talk about the book that’s coming out, I figured it would be fun to share a true ghost story I’d recently heard, to give you an idea of what I consider to be unsettling.
Four or five decades gone by there was a young man in love with a young woman who lived on the outskirts of Blackpool. Her parents didn’t approve of him so he could only ever visit her during the night. Once her parents had gone to bed, the young woman would creep out of the house and flash the lights of her parent’s car three times. Then her boyfriend would ride his motorbike down the road toward her house so they could meet and have an illicit tryst.
Sadly, one night, the boyfriend hit a pothole. The motorbike went one way and he went the other and his injuries were so severe he didn’t survive.
But, apparently, his ghost still haunts that stretch of road.
A friend of mine, and her boyfriend, decided to head out there one night to see if they could verify the story. The boyfriend was worried he’d be completely freaked out. “His family are religious and he believes in that sort of thing,” my friend told me. She was more worried that her suspicions (that the night would be a waste of time) would turn out to be true.
When they went to investigate this alleged haunting, my friend had an idea. She stopped outside the abandoned farmhouse where the girl in the story had once lived. Then, once she’d turned off the engine, she flashed the headlights three times.
“You won’t believe this,” she told me, “but there was a single headlight that appeared half a mile down the road.” When I seemed sceptical, she added, “It was approaching slowly at first, but building speed. It kept coming and coming and coming. My boyfriend was panicking, and that got worse as the headlight came closer.”
The light came closer and grew bigger. Just as they were expecting to feel the impact of a bike hitting their car, my friend turned on her car’s lights. She expected to see an idiot on a bike, coming to an abrupt halt and smug because his practical joke had worked out. But there was nothing there.
“There was nothing there at all,” she told me. “The light was just gone.”
She’s got no explanation for what happened. She insists it’s a true story but she doesn’t have any evidence to support it. But the one thing she can say is, she’s never going to that stretch of road after dark, ever again.
As I said, this has nothing to do with the content of my forthcoming novella, Cursed, save for the fact that’s a story about ghost stories and this was reported to me as a true ghost story. Over the next week The Cursed Blog Tour is going to be visiting a handful of websites belonging to some of my favourite writers and I’ll be sharing pieces of content from the book and talking more about my current obsession with the supernatural. If you want to follow The Cursed Blog Tour, this is the schedule and it would be great to see you there:
https://www.theworldofcolin.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/02/Day-One-Image-1.png16001069Colin Davieshttps://www.theworldofcolin.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/11/TWOC-340px.pngColin Davies2021-02-22 08:00:002021-02-21 10:13:07Cursed: A Blog Tour
According to the QAnons the world as we know it is not the world we think we know because they know the truth and it is not what we think it is. Until Jow Biden got sworn in as the President of the United States. It was at this point that the world as we know it turned out to be the shit show we always knew it was.
Thanks to the lack of action from ex-president Trump who was supposed to swoop in with his secret swat team, arrest and execute all the Satan-worshipping paedophiles. Reclaiming the mightly lands of the USA for its indigenous white folk. Making America Great Again. But alas, the great orange one’s lack of action, whether it was because the forces of evil stopped him or he chose not too or, let us just say for argument’s sake, it wasn’t true in the first place, was clear fr all to see.
This has left a hole in the lives of people who just want to believe in something. People, that feel lost and think there must be some grand design to all this because otherwise, what is the bloody point? Frighten people, who just want to stop feeling of darned forgotten all the time. Just people looking for answers.
And it is these people that have been let down by Trump’s in actions. Not because he didn’t drain the swamp and beat the Devil, but because he allowed people to think this was true. He rode on the back of some outlandish falsehoods and with full knowledge of the bullshit, stoaked the fires. He let these people looking for answer believe the had found them. These people who now feel crushed and let down and forgotten, again.
I read that some factions of some extreme far-right organisations have already started to try and recruit the lost soles, offering them new answers to their sense of injustice. And what does the liberal left do? Does it reach out a hand and offer answers? No, it uses big words, mocks the broken willed and smiles with great smugness.
Trump has now gone, thank the actual fuck. There is now an opportunity for people to come together and listen to each other. The time is now for setting up a better future. We have to face the injustices and ask why they feel that way. We need to stop listening to the bank who is telling us that these ex- QAnons are looking at our biscuits and start showing them that the biscuits are not poisonous. Just a little truth and straight-talking from the politicians would be a start. Drop all the “feel good” war metaphors and just tell us when we can meet up again or at the very minimum, what we need to be seeing to get what we want.
Tell us that if the R rate gets below 1 for more than a week all the pubs and schools we then open. You watch people follow the guidance then. When there is no end in sight people start to think, “what’s the point?” And they cannot just tell us the end is near, because they have been telling us that for nigh on a year. Real markers, reak results, real rewards. Stop thinking that the break of trust with the population isn’t your fault. Stop making baseless promises and just tell us how we get out of this, and if you don’t know, tell us.
I hope for peace, health and happiness for all. I just wish you lot in government understood that this 3-word phrase means everyone, and not just those will a shit laid of money.
It is commonly know how much I loved Rok of the Reds; mainly because at any given opportunity I tell everyone. You can read my review of it here. I was also very enthusiastic about the first chapter of its sequel Rok the God, which was released as a teaser for the Kickstarter campaign. You can read that review here. Well now the whole thing is complete and I have taken my time to get my thoughts down because I wanted to write a review to do it justice.
So, as an instant reaction to Rok the God. I Bloomin’ loved it! The mad as a weasel that’s had its gin stolen story, flows with such joy I challenge anyone not to smile while reading it. It has all the intergalactic shenanigans you want from an alien story, action-packed football matches for the sports story, a boo-hiss bad guy and some utter quality boys own adventure with the shrunken ne’er-do-wells who are on the run and trying to figure out what is going on.
The humour bounces off the page with a script from John Wagner and Alan Grant that feels original and yet has the familiar touches that allow you to settle into the world without trying too hard. The characters are strong and in the case of the nefarious Malcolm Greidy, a not too subtle satire of a certain money-grabbing American businessman who owns another football club that also plays in red, is wickedly realised.
For me, all the elements work. I read one review that didn’t like all the space opera bits as much. For me, these were the roots of the Wagner/Grant partnership at 2000AD. The shrunken Kyle Dixon and Ref Nigel Bull have all the elements of the great 1950s B movies, and the football set-pieces (yes I did) channel all the drama of a classic Roy of the Rovers.
However, the script and story are only half of what makes this such a great comic (my maths will be brought in to question later in the review). Dan Cornwell, the artist who realised the big red fella has yet again produced some of the finest art you are going to find in the pages of a comic book anywhere on the planet. His detailing, movements, recreations of both alien worlds and actual Earthly locations are jaw-dropping. The likenesses he produces for the stadiums, and some of the characters (both myself and my son appear in the book; it was a Kickstarter thing) are truly fantastic. Dan’s visual style allows the script to come to life with passion. There is not a single pencil line on the page wasted. Every stroke adds to the overall detail that pulls you into the frame giving you the ability to live the scene, not just read it.
We may already be at 100% of why this is good, but there is more. The colouring from Abby Bulmer and Jim Boswell is strong and has a consistency that lifts the images when required and produces dark moods just at the right time. I’ve mentioned Jim Campbell’s lettering before. I think he is a genius in this field. It’s not just about putting the words in a bubble, it’s about creating flow and making it easy for the reader to understand where to go next. This is all done to the same high level as every other part of the comic-book.
To sum up. Rok the God is, as I have said before “sharp, funny and just nuts” but now it is complete, you get to fully understand how incredibly sharp, how utterly funny and just how out of this world nuts it is. The Rok comics give me the exciting feeling I had reading 2000AD and Scream comics back in the day (which is the late 70s, through the 80s for those of you asking). Thank you team Rok for making me feel like a kid again without me having to go through a crisis and buy a motorbike.
https://www.theworldofcolin.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/10/RoktheGodsm.jpg8861284Colin Davieshttps://www.theworldofcolin.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/11/TWOC-340px.pngColin Davies2020-10-12 14:11:312020-10-12 14:37:42Rok is back! Rok the God
First, I’d like to thank @TheTweetOfColin for allowing me to bring my blog tour here today. This is day eight of the blog tour and I’m very excited because I’ve written a really fun horror novel and I want to tell you a little bit about it.
(I’ll be honest and admit I’m introducing myself in the same way each day, in case these words encounter someone who doesn’t know me or who hasn’t been following the blog tour. If you’ve already read my introduction on one of the other blogs, or if you simply don’t care who I am or what I’ve got to say, skip to the bit under the picture of the book cover).
By way of introduction, I should begin by saying my name is Ashley Lister; I write horror fiction and some of the crudest poetry known to mankind; and I’m here talking about a horror novel I’ve written which will be published on August 22nd. It’s called Blackstone Towers and this is what the story is about:
The talismans of the magi control seven realms of the mortal world. One can grant the bearer immortality; another gives its owner unfathomable wealth; a third gives the holder unerring foresight. There is a talisman to control reality, success, the deliberate and the accidental, and a talisman that governs the balance between love and hate.
The planets are now aligning, and one worldly resident of Blackstone Towers knows the talismans urgently need collecting and destroying before they fall into the wrong hands.
The only problem is establishing whose hands are the wrong ones. Look at that cover. Isn’t it brilliant? I have to rate this as one of my favourite covers of all time, which is why I owe a huge thank you to Colin Davies for creating it for me. Everything about it from the full moon and the mackerel clouds, right down to that imposing sinister building, give it an irresistible sense of mystery. Colin, as I’m sure everyone reading this knows, is not just a superb graphic designer. He’s also the author of some pretty incredible books, including the unputdownable Blood Ink. And, within the pages of Blood Ink, you’ll find mention of Raven and Skull.
I mention this because Raven and Skull is the title of an earlier horror novel of mine which is all about the horror of working in an office job. Personally, I’ve had far too many dull office jobs where life is squeezed from you as you sit in front of a PC and shift information from one program to another. The words ‘soul-destroying’ don’t even hint at the crushing ennui, although they are surprisingly apposite.
I’ve also had other jobs that qualify as ‘soul-destroying’. I worked for several years for an odious little penny-pincher who kept a dog that bit staff and customers. I’ve worked as a cleaner and found the way other people treat a cleaner is actually pretty shitty. And I tried door-to-door sales for exactly 22 minutes before I realised I wasn’t cut out for door-to-door sales.
All of which is my way of building to my question for today: What’s the worst job you’ve ever had? And why?
Try not to be libellous in your response but please, I’d love to know what working situation you considered to be the epitome of a living hell.
Answer on Twitter using the hashtag #BlackstoneTowers. If you don’t use Twitter please feel free to email me at firstname.lastname@example.org. I’ll be collecting all the answers and, on the day of publication, I’ll choose my favourite response and send one lucky winner a free copy of one of my novels.
This is day 8 of a 9-day blog tour and, each day up to the launch, I’ll be on a different blog, as detailed below. And, each day, I’ll be asking a different question. Please feel free to follow me, answer as many questions as you like, and if you’ve got any questions about the book or anything else, I’ll be happy to answer.
Also, if you fancy coming to the online launch, where I’ll be reading from Blackstone Towers and sharing some of my ribald poetry, drop me an email and I’ll send you an invite.
This blog is a review of Gormless by Rich Davenport (ISBN 987-1-913256-14-2). But first, some history.
My first encounter with Rich Davenport came by way of a poetry slam. I was in the middle of touring my collection ‘The Book of Colin’ before an official launch. My good friend, Big Charlie Poet, had recommended I have a go at the Spotlight Slam in Lancaster, so myself and my partner Heather decided to make a night it. We book a lovely little B&B close to the venue and, armed with a comedy poem entitled ‘The Sexual Olympics’ ventured forth to see what all this poetry slam thing was about.
I had been up and performed my piece with the tittering response from the audience I wanted then returned to my seat, feeling quietly confident at placing in the top three for the night. Then stepped forward, Rich Davenport. H.G. Wells would probably describe him as a ‘Hulk, bigger than a bear.’ I would then add, but twice as cuddly.
As soon as he stepped onto the stage, it was his; delivering quickfire poems filled with nonsense and wit. The audience loved him. I loved him. Laugh out loud, smart and wonderfully performed. His work appealed to me in the same way as Spike Milligan’s poetry does.
That night, after he picked up his winnings, I booked him for the book launch. His work had the same effect that night as well. It was a fun year attending the same nights as Rich. A lovely generous soul and a brilliant performer. The only problem was, Rich Davenport has M.E.
It is a cruel disease that strips people of all their energy and leaves them unable to pursue their passions. This affliction caused Rich to drop out of the poetry and comedy scene for too many years. In this hiatus, I tried to get him to publish some of his work, but it never came to pass. Time moved on, and I lived in the hope that Rich would feel well enough one day to venture onto the boards once again.
But then something amazing happened; he announced the publication of a small book of poetry. Chin Beard Books had achieved what I had failed to do; they had got him into print. With a limited run of just 100 copies (unless it sells faster than Usain Bolt dashing to the toilet because of the sudden onset of the squits), I was quick to the ‘here, have my money’ button.
And thus it arrived, forty-three pages of daft poetry that had me laughing at over breakfast, much to my partner’s annoyance. ‘The Ballad of BLOODY NORA’, about a nit nurse who just loses her mind one day and goes on a killing spree (honestly, it’s BLOODY funny), ‘A Flutter Of Petticoats (or Cop This Jane Austen)’, which is a collection of three fart oriented couplets, and ‘Pantalones De Amor (Trousers of Love)’ with a direction for it to be read with the voice of Antonio Banderas, all had me spitting my Linda McCartney sausages across the table.
These wonderfully funny words are complemented with some beautiful artwork from Minty B. His drawings, published in colour throughout the book, add a cheeky smile to the work. The painting of ‘Bloody Nora’ is an image I would love to wear on a t-shirt.
To sum up, I loved this book, but then I am a massive fan of Rich. However, I am also someone who doesn’t just blow smoke up someone’s botty. It is a thin book, he doesn’t write long poems very often, but the stuff that is in these pages is hilarious and something you will go back to again and again; especially when you need a cheering up.
For me, Rich Davenport sits alongside other great comedy poets: Spike Milligan, Pam Ayres, John Cooper Clark, Ashley Lister, and John Hegley.
If you manage to get a copy of Gormless, you’ll be one of the lucky ones, and if you manage to catch him live ever, you will be in for a treat. The following is a limerick taken from Gormless with kind permission of Rich Davenport. Enjoy.
An ambitious young gymnast called Fritz Tried to force himself into the splits But he pushed down too hard Ruined his leotard With a violent attack of the squits
https://www.theworldofcolin.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/07/Gormless.jpg1067800Colin Davieshttps://www.theworldofcolin.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/11/TWOC-340px.pngColin Davies2020-07-25 09:41:072020-07-25 09:41:10Gormless: a book of poems by Rich Davenport
As ‘Blood Ink’ is a book made up of short stories I thought I’d share one from a while back. I hope you enjoy it.
The Day I Met Her
It was a sunny day when I met her. I’d been wandering about in the overgrown fields adjacent to the council flats, on the South Downs, that I called home. Deep into the six weeks of school holidays my friends were either away with their parents or staying over at elderly relatives houses to give their tired guardians a break before the ensuing madness that accompanies the start of every school year. This September would be the beginning of the end for my friends and me. The last year of Middle School before the big step up.
Coming from a household where the family holiday included the visit to the previous generation, our away time was now done. Now, seemingly the only child on the estate, I freely explored the surrounding area, which to be quite frank, was boring as hell. Though the sunshine was beautiful and the truly amazing experience of meeting a slow worm in the long grass was the stuff my dreams would typically be full of, without my band of brothers and sisters, time just ticked away so slowly.
Keeping time was not my strong point. You could go as far as to say I was as good at keeping time as a Rally Grifter was at being a mode of public transport. My dad had tried to get me to wear a watch once.
“This will stop you coming home late,” he said, strapping it to my wrist. But the bulkiness of the thing felt uncomfortable and, within the first hour of wearing it, the poor thing came to a rather abrupt end. Though I must admit, had I not had it on, my wrist would have taken the full impact of the collision with a concrete fence post as I fell out of the tree.
So on this bright, warm, sticky day, as time moved slowly across the sky, I was disconnected from the world of people, and lost in the lonely, dull life of no one to play with; that was until I met her.
I’d wandered across the field, down the concrete steps leading to the noisy grey factories of the industrial estate, across a yard full of discarded wooden pallets, and up the hill on the other side. Being as it was the school holidays, the road was quiet and crossing over to the Stammer Woods was relatively risk-free. The small path, made by years of walkers, was overgrown, only the slight balding of grass at its start gave away the entrance.
As an experienced adventurer, I found myself a suitable swishing stick and headed into the dark shadows of the trees. Under the canopy the sun’s heat, though significantly reduced, still warmed the thick sticky air. In these shadows I was no longer on the South Downs, now I was in the Orc infested forests of Doomladen from the Rune Quest adventures run by my best friend, Dylan.
He was away in Cornwall, so the campaign was currently on hold. My Dwarf character, Thorach, along with his party, the majestic elven wizard Trintus, the fierce barbarian hunter Maxim and a curious scholar thief Grangdon, searched the lands for treasures of legend so that their feats would be written in song.
Now, separated from the party, it was up to me to find adventure and get out of this dark and mysterious place, handsomely rewarded and alive. My swisher was now my double-headed battle-axe, which I held with both my hands. I was ready for any battles that might befall me. With great care and bravery, I ventured forth to take on evil.
Time was even more removed from my conscious mind as I moved deeper and deeper into the belly of the woods. The trees whispered around me, telling stories of times gone, and battles fought. I had no time for idle chit-chat: there was a wrong somewhere that needed righting. Suddenly my attention was taken by something white poking out of the undergrowth.
The closer I got, the more I could see. A girl, older than me but not an adult, was lying on the ground. Most of her body was hidden from view by branches and torn up bushes that looked like they had been dragged there. I could see her white blouse was soiled and torn, her shoeless feet marked by the brambles, her flowery skirt mixing with the foliage to hide her legs. I approached with caution. Her eyes were closed. Softly I reached forward with my axe and pushed her shoulder. There was no response. I did this a second time.
“Are you OK?”
She opened her eyes and breathed in deep with the shock of being woken up. In turn, I jumped and let out a loud yell. The moment passed. It was a combination of valour and curiosity that gave me the strength not to run away.
Without using the axe as a prodding stick, I asked again, “Are you OK?”
She glanced around at the forest, “I can’t move my legs,” her eyes moved towards her body. “Or my arms.”
She started to cry. I quickly moved across to her and took her in my arms, offering comfort.
“I need to go and get help.” “No!” She was frightened. “Please don’t leave me.” I brushed my hand across her muddied, matted brown hair. “Shhhh, it’s ok.” “But the Orcs, they…” “They can’t hurt you now.”
Killing Orcs was my speciality. I told her tales of castle raids and massive battles. How once, using my magic reloading, five-bolt crossbow, I cut an Orc clean in two with a single shot.
“Oh, the gods were smiling on me that day.”
She smiled. The presence of a hero, albeit a short, wide, very hairy bearded one, had made her feel safe. I knew the song that would tell this tale over many a tankard of ale would be joyous indeed.
Her attention became sharply taken by the snapping of a twig not far from our position. I looked up to see many men, some with dogs making their way through the trees. The thick trunks broke the lights of their torches as they scanned the area. When I looked down to tell her everything was going to be alright, she was no longer in my arms. She was again under branches, barely visible in the dark. I was crying and screaming, “Help!”
Once the people got over to me, I was quickly taken away from her. My mother was waiting when the police returned me to the flat. She held me in her arms so tightly that it felt like she never wanted to let go ever again. I could hear her crying, and every so often, her grip would tighten. Soon my father returned from the search party, which allowed my mum to relinquish her hug, allowing me a moment of breath before he similarly embraced me.
That night I spent in silence. My brother asked a couple of time if I was OK, to which I just nodded. I didn’t sleep that night. Every time I closed my eyes, all I could see was her face.
It wasn’t until the next day that I found out who she was; a girl named Lisa Turpnal from a council estate over the hill. She had been missing for three days. It turned out that I had also been reported as missing having not been seen since 10 o’clock that the morning.
I met her parents a few days later. They thanked me for finding her. I apologised for not being able to save her. These words seemed to make all the adults cry, so I never said them again. The rest of the holidays I spent in adult company.
https://www.theworldofcolin.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/07/forest.jpg384384Colin Davieshttps://www.theworldofcolin.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/11/TWOC-340px.pngColin Davies2020-07-15 10:09:412020-07-15 10:09:44The Day I Met Here
Since Marvel went all crazy on the whole fictional shared universe thing, it has become a point of interest with many people. So much so that clues and easter eggs have been hunted down to establish links between already created works. Search to see the evidence that Bladerunner and Alien share the same universe. There is also an easter egg the Star Wars prequel, The Phantom Menace, which shows the alien race from E.T.: The Extraterrestrial has a seat on the council. Maybe E.T.’s ability to make Elliot’s bicycle fly was due to his Jedi powers and control of The Force?
I love these links, these little nods to other creators as a way of showing your admiration for their work. That is why in my book Blood Ink, the mysterious Ms Nikita‘s legal representation comes from the firm Raven and Skull. A law firm so full of evil intent that it would seem folly to have her affairs handled by anyone else.
For those of you who are unaware of who Raven and Skull are here’s a little review. Raven and Skull is the title of a book by the fantastic British author Dr Ashley Lister, though most of the time he seems to drop the Doctor part on his books. It tells the tale of six colleagues from the legal firm’s offices and how they all meet up in a pub to discuss each other how bad, horrible, evil and darn right nasty their week had been. Each story is full of adultery, theft, betrayal, murder, cannibalism, black magic and death. Twisted encounters that play out like an old hammer movie. An anthology of short stories all tied together by the narrative that they all work at Raven and Skull. And it is brilliant.
I am such a fan of old school horror like Dr Terror’s House of Horrors and the Tales from the Crypt comics. This way of publishing an anthology appealed to me and was very much in my thoughts as I started to compile my collection of short stories together.
The stories I was presenting had a much broader thematic. I have stories covering going into space, time travel and the horrific outcome of when apps go wrong in the future. Raven and Skull, while having a lovely variety in its horror stakes, was less out there and thus the leitmotif of everything happening to these employees of the law firm worked exceptionally well. Blood Ink had to pull these very different stories together, hence the creation of Ms Nikita.
She is the mysterious protagonist that links all the stories. A very powerful agent/producer, her story is told by short interludes that bookend each of the tales. Even the writers of the stories are characters in the book, in her story. As each short story is ‘pitched’ to her, we the reader learn more about her true nature. So when it came to setting up a meeting between one of her writing stable, the London based Duncan Brashill, and Ms Nikita, for me there was only one place it could happen, the London offices of Raven and Skull, her legal representatives.
When I thought of this idea I smiled, t made so much sense. When you read Raven and Skull, you realise how evil and twisted this law firm is, and so it really couldn’t be any other firm. So I sent an email to Dr Ashley Lister to ask if I could do this. Remember, by saying yes, he would be placing my agent/producer in the same universe as his law firm. I was delighted with his positive response.
So that’s how it happened, the reason Ms Nikita has a meeting at the London offices of Raven and Skull. Because I liked a book and thought a link between the two other than it is an anthology that holds together like a novel would be cool. That by using this simplest thing like the name of a company, this new universe of horror has expanded and become much more extensive than we envisaged.
Raven and Skull also appear in the next novel from Ashley Lister, Doll House. It is in the background of a street scene and works well to establish the environment of the location. It’s another good read and well worth your time.
I have started planning a sequel to Blood Ink, mainly because the few that have read it so far have been rather excited about it and have already begun to badgering me for one. So Ms Nikita will be back, and maybe she will frequent the offices of Raven and Skull again. Perhaps she will make an appearance in one of Ashley Lister’s novels, or perhaps both Ms Nikita and Raven and Skull will turn up (as long as permission is sought) in some other works. Wouldn’t it be incredible to see a universe shared by new, exciting horror authors?
https://www.theworldofcolin.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/07/Raven-and-Skull.jpg499327Colin Davieshttps://www.theworldofcolin.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/11/TWOC-340px.pngColin Davies2020-07-07 17:55:042020-07-07 17:55:07We all share a universe.
Here are some interesting links for you! Enjoy your stay :)