Imagine a ball of still molten lead swirling in an obsidian sphere. Â
It's looking for an excuse to break open. Â The when and the where isn't important anymore. Â It's been solid too long and it knows one day that the fire will go out and the entire thing will congeal into a mass that will no longer be capable of moving and that few will have the strength to budge.
It's been alive too long. It wants to share that core of swirling hate, that whirling white hot fury inside itself, with everyone else with absolutely no regard for the damage that will cause most things.
That's Hammersmith.
Don't stand in arm's reach of him.
It's looking for an excuse to break open. Â The when and the where isn't important anymore. Â It's been solid too long and it knows one day that the fire will go out and the entire thing will congeal into a mass that will no longer be capable of moving and that few will have the strength to budge.
It's been alive too long. It wants to share that core of swirling hate, that whirling white hot fury inside itself, with everyone else with absolutely no regard for the damage that will cause most things.
That's Hammersmith.
Don't stand in arm's reach of him.