“No one is finally dead until the ripples they cause in the world die away, until the clock wound up winds down, until the wine she made has finished its ferment, until the crop they planted is harvested. The span of someone’s life is only the core of their actual existence.”
This image was originally posted to Flickr by Myrmi at https://www.flickr.com/photos/68905839@N00/15294909. It was reviewed on 14 March 2008 by FlickreviewR and was confirmed to be licensed under the terms of the cc-by-sa-2.0.
As sad as it is that he’s dead I’m a little bit glad that he didn’t have to know that his good friend Neil Gaiman is a sociopathic sexual abuser.
I’ve always had weird vibes about Gaiman, somehow glad to see my gut feeling vindicated(?) I don’t know…
I always put it down to him being evasive about his father and sister, but I guess he was hiding something else.
I felt this way too, he was too twee in an off-putting way.
As a person he always felt a little off, like he always put on an act (which he obviously did). But his fiction is empathetic and soulful it’s really hard to imagine it was all just performatory.