Back in Brown

I have sold my soul to steam. I desire steampunk pen-pals, absinthe lollies and my own wax seal. The advent of garage sale season leaves me with bins to rummage through, in my quest for Victoriana. Heliosepia beckons, and it, like Rome, will not be built in a day.
Also, I'm feeling particularly eloquent to-day. Is is obvious?

But honestly, I find my speech growing more and more archaic with every passing day. I almost fear that I shall wake one morning and find myself speaking Old English. But I suppose that would make about as much sense to the personages I speak with as the tongue I use now.

...The Sandman hunts me. I shall hide under my covers, which are impenetrable by any beast that goes bump in the night. Everybody know that...

Murphs