Strange quills the effervescence and behaviour of The Doctor as both he and Rose appear in a black hole orbit.
Bounding all over the place, his entire core stands resolute with the conflict of fascination and horror coming all over his face and fingers. At times, it's as if he's well over the verge of insanity, broken from all the many regenerations previous. Second guessing his situational insert is as complex as understanding the TARDIS biotechnology.
Slinging back in the canvas chair, with the night to burn and Ood about as Satan's scout, notes of allusions to the illusion of existence punch a hole in the hope of an easy out. Another cliffhanger leaving the teeth worn from the grinding and anticipation.
Sunday, 3 September 2006 - 13:51
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