ackroyd-tenebrosus

March 7, 2025

This mundus tenebrosus, this shaddowy world of Mankind, is sunk into Night; there is not a Field without its Spirits, nor a City without its Daemons, and the Lunaticks speak Prophesies while the Wise men fall into the Pitte.

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Thought:

“All that remains of that minute is time in all its purity, bone-white time.”

Marguerite Duras

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