This is where my thoughts pool as a reservoir of miscellany and peculiarity. It's actually not my brain that's dripping -- it's my soul that's leaking.
It's really no big deal.
Monday, January 21, 2013
“Nyarlathotep” — H.P. Lovecraft
The prose is so overwrought as to be
hypnotic, compelling, wondrous. The tonality is very dark. An intuition of creeping dread and ancient horror becomes almost
ecstatic, even cathartic.
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