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| − | <center>[[Image:Wyrm.png|120px]][[Image:Fomori.png|120px]]
| + | #REDIRECT [[Sasha]] |
| − | <br><font color=black style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: Lucida Handwriting, serif;">
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| − | {| style="text-align:center;"
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| − | |<font color=black style="font-size: 35pt; text-shadow: 5px 5px 5px gray; font-family: Lucida Handwriting, serif; font-variant: small-caps;">'''Sasha Crane'''</font>
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| − | <br><hr>
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| − | {| style="text-align:left; width:50%; font-family: Palatino Linotype, serif;"
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| − | |Standing in the nordic nook of the kitchen, I can gaze down at the flimsy-limbed joggers heading south towards the Park. It's nearly as bad as New York. Some of these gasping fatsos, these too-little-too-late artists, they look as though they're running up rising ground, climbing ground. My generation, we started all this. Before, everyone was presumably content to feel like death the whole time. Now they want to feel terrific for ever.
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| − | |style="text-align:center;"|—Martin Amis, ''Money: A Suicide Note''
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| − | |}
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| − | </font></center>
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