Liège-ure

Dearest readers, the absence of journal entries may be attributed to a great many things, things great and many indeed which will scarcely be writ over in this hallowed blog. However, pray hear my tale of woe and redemption in the fair city of Liège, or is it Liége. I never can recall.

The Calliope of the Future travelled for some time amidst a family of somewhat filthy Velocipedists until I, Tovio by name, accordionographer by trade, didst feel a pinch, nay a searing burning pain in such a joint commonly referred to as a knee. A friendly Englishman was apt to do me the favor of pulling me by cord some 5000 cubits before I was in dire need of walking. Oh tall bike, why hast though forsaken me with tendonitis??

After a 30 kilometer walk (near 30000 cubits, if thou canst imagine) I found myself in the Chauve Souris, a delightful house upon a hill in the fair, dare I use this word again...Citadel of Lièége, Belgium. Kayne continued on the with the Velocipedists from here and I stayed to recuperate and build an herb spiral in the garden.

I have played too much Starcraft, as that is the pasttime of fair Lisa and Jerome. I have eaten much bread and slept oft.

I expected to rest only a matter of days before returning to the 123 Rue Royale in Brussels to help Reginald with his political party entitled Velorution (there is an accent in there somewhere, but as we all know, truly gentile personnages know inherently the accents of words without the need for an errant apostraphe). But somehow I have overstayed not my welcome but my schedule and I must now by foot traverse the path to Dijon to meet again withst Kayne and finally rescue my beloved from the cruel grasp of the great Inquisitor De Gaulle, who byst his very strange winged contraptions hast captured dear Sarah.

Fare thee well readers of ramblings, shall we again traverseth the fair fields together upon steeds of pedalled metal, after my fucking knees heal.