Julian Hol > Recent Status Updates

Ruins become sand, sand blows away… all our richness and color and beauty would be lost… as if it had never been.

My inheritance offered life-long idle luxury, and yet, needing nothing, I burned with the paradoxical urge to do everything.

And I to-night my heart is light: no dirge will
I upraise,
But waft the angel on her flight with a Pæan of
old days!

And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating
on the floor
Shall be lifted - nevermore!

The clay in which the forces that shape all things leave their fingerprints most clearly.

Time is simultaneous, an intricately structured jewel that humans insist on viewing one edge at a time, when the whole design is visible in every facet.

Como si esperara una respuesta, o como si la reclamara, su mirada es sombría y tenaz.

😨

The conversation of the dead: Dreary, bitter, endlessly sad...

♥︎

75. The ending of the words is the Word Abrahadabra.