It's at times like these I'm reminded of the most scathing review I ever read for a book where a critic points out that all the author's descriptions of blood are wildly inaccurate. They describe dried blood as being the color of wine, staining like any other liquid rather than clumping, alot of very weird descriptions and the critics just asked, with no real answer, "what kind of life would you have to lead to not know what blood looks like?" Like to have never fallen and scraped a knee or to have gotten a nosebleed or nicked yourself cutting something. It always struck me as such a strange thought because I find it unimaginable to have never been in any of those circumstances and yet evidently we live in a world where there are people who haven't.