The Devil You Know

I can’t pretend I was enjoying Mysia. “Cultural desert” doesn’t begin to do it justice. There is no word for artist in the Mysian language; instead there’s a long-winded periphrasis that translates as man- who-deceives-others-into-giving-food-by-spoiling-bits-of-wood.

The thing about me that seems to puzzle people the most - people who know me, who believe what i tell them - is that I can write the most profound things without actually meaning them.
I can persuade people of things I don't believe myself,or (more usually) simply don't care about