Date:	2001-11-04 21:21
Subject:	AGV......(Eevee recalls memories of the now-dead website)
Security:	Public
Mood:	sad
Music:	Another Perfect Day by American Hi-Fi

Oh my Goddess. The AGV is gone. I saw it coming, but it still hit so hard. I'm going to miss it so much. I loved the AGV; it was like a second home.

On there, my name was SailorEevee, short for Sailor EeveeMoon. My current icon was that of Marcus, Jason's friend from the comic strip Fox Trot. My current quote was 'I am the daughter of Earth and Water; I am a nursling of the Sky. I flow through the pores of the ocean and shores; I change, but I never die." It was from the poem "The Cloud" by Percy Bysshe Shelley, who was the husband of Mary Shelley, authoress of Frankenstein. I had friends there, Althea, Kokoryta, Gourry, ChibiChibi90, Chocobo, and others. It was a friendly place of violet and reddish tones, a second home for all those anime-obsessed.

Now it's gone. I wish it weren't, but it is. I shall remember it now and (hopefully) forever. Unfortunately, life goes on, and perhaps the Anime GrapeVine will become pushed to the furthest corners of my mind. But if it is, perhaps in my future, I'll meet another anime fan who, like me, was once a 'Viner, and perhaps we'll know each other from our chats through that wonderful little message system. Maybe we'll reminisce about the legendary swirly and argue about whether it was truly green or yellow. (green)

All through this, the world moves forward, most of it not knowing about our little set of message boards. Most ignore the death of a website, concentrating on the death of thousands of innocent people. I cannot blame them, of course, but I must pray they know what they're doing. If they don't, our world will become one of a Ray Bradbury novel. Because of this, and because I want an excuse to corrupt anyone who reads this (hi, Koko-chan!) with Sara Teasdale.

There Will Come Soft Rain
Sara Teasdale

There will come soft rain and the smell of the ground,
And swallows circling with their shimmering sound;

And frogs in the pools singing at night,
And wild plum-trees in tremulous white;

Robins will wear their feathery fire
Whistling their whims on a low fence-wire.

And not one will know of the war, not one
Will care at last when it is done.

Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree,
If mankind perished utterly.

And Spring herself when she woke at dawn,
Would scarcely know that we were gone.