About Me
I was born sometime in the 19th century. Left alone as a baby inside a top hat and raised in a forest by Dickensian gnomes who wore nifty little waistcoats and smoked opium and pretended they were steam trains. I have excitable hair and a tongue full of feathers. A big fat silly bird that keeps trying to fly out, sometimes. Othertimes it hides all bashful. Or migrates at awkward moments. I will probably marry a mermaid or Tom Waits. And then die, merry but pessimistic, sometime in the 17th century.