You think tonight is the last day of Novaettir, ready for Dreamember. This used to be when human beings put up their christmas creatures, before Yezuz came and helped some escape to Triton from Tellus here. Still you breath easy, Tomiro, while your organs seems better designed to digest plastic materia, plus transform petrol into wood. Under a rusty wheel you've found our christmas cardboard calendar from 1988. Every window lid has been opened, but no Santa nor vaettir remains inside. Anyhow, since you gladly met Uncle Timolas once more, we're full of hope that Dreamember becomes a less lonely time.