"All this he saw, for one moment breathless and intense, vivid on the morning sky; and still, as he looked, he lived; and still, as he lived, he wondered."

Surprising

It wasn’t quite the curse of Tutankhamen
Or the kiss of death from Judas in the night
And it felt so far beyond the blue horizon
Tempting me with transports of delight
And when the devil took my hand and said
Come along with me

There I was, wide awake and dreaming
Reaching out for something in the sky
But I could not control that trembling feeling
Everything I want is slipping by
And when the devil took my hand and said
Something you should see

I never knew what happened to my nightmare
Everything went dark that August day
And the eclipse was on the other side of somewhere
But I was on the upside of afraid
And then an angel took my hand and said
Come along with me

Spooktober

Spooktober 27 – The Black Monk (2)

Chapter 3 After supper, when the visitors had gone, he went to his room and lay down on the sofa: he wanted to think about the monk. But a minute later Tanya came in. “Here, Andryusha; read father’s articles,” she said, giving him a bundle

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Spooktober

Spooktober 26 – The Black Monk (1)

Anton Chekhov (1860–1904) was a Russian physician, short-story writer and playwright, and I’m not particularly fond of him, though he’s widely regarded as one of the greatest masters of modern short fiction and who am I to argue? His work is celebrated for its psychological

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art and fashion

Beauty and Ugliness: an exhibition

A few pictures from the recently closed exhibition on Beauty and Ugliness as an aesthetic paradigma in which what’s ideal and what’s grotesque melt together as sides of the same coin. The exhibition featured works by Brueghel (lent from the other exhibition at Palazzo Reale),

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Spooktober 27 – The Black Monk (2)

Chapter 3 After supper, when the visitors had gone, he went to his room and lay down on the sofa: he wanted to think about the monk. But a minute later Tanya came in. “Here, Andryusha; read father’s articles,” she said, giving him a bundle

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Spooktober 26 – The Black Monk (1)

Anton Chekhov (1860–1904) was a Russian physician, short-story writer and playwright, and I’m not particularly fond of him, though he’s widely regarded as one of the greatest masters of modern short fiction and who am I to argue? His work is celebrated for its psychological

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