† It is a northern country; they have cold weather, they have cold hearts. Angela Carter, "The Werewolf" †

On this tumblelog you are most likely to find an assortment of spooks, personal demons, some muses and a pick'n'mix of subversive facts and myths. I try to credit wherever possible.

[Encyclopaedia Vantitatum † my personal blog, where you will generally find a wide range of the uncanny and the curious, from reviews of German Expressionist and Surrealist films, to reviews of marginally obscure but not less delightful books, to random thoughts and some creative writing]

Read the Printed Word!



archive ask me random credit

♥ Dec 27th, 2011
♥ Dec 21st, 2011
Salzburg Graveyard by *shadwelldrama
♥ May 1st, 2011
Tombstone in the Holy Trinity Church graveyard in Stratford-upon-Avon. While I was busy taking this photograph, a little boy (probably aged somehwere between 4 and 6) ran to a tombstone nearby, kneeled in front of it, then started to kind of ‘shake’ the thing and yell at it, saying: ‘Wake up, dude! Why don’t you wake up? Don’t you know you’re supposed to wake up one day? Why don’t you wake up now? Wake up!’ Then he started to brush away with his little fingers the dirt and soil deposited on the tombstone over the years. He kept at it until his parents - who weren’t really paying attention to what the kid was doing - called him away. And even then he kept looking back. (partly reposted from my blog, Encyclopaedia Vanitatum)