therickyhorrorpictureshow:

this is actually the best representation of every concert ever

therickyhorrorpictureshow:

this is actually the best representation of every concert ever



golgothan:

Hannibal by Livio Ramendelli.

golgothan:

Hannibal by Livio Ramendelli.




pankurios-templeovarts:

Phantastic dark art - Bryan Proteau.





spoopy-sherlock:

giraffesandtheclap:

gsfsoul:

That looks like the “gods” are having a rave in the clouds

all hail the glow cloud

all hail the glow cloud


adamwtp

spoopy-sherlock:

giraffesandtheclap:

gsfsoul:

That looks like the “gods” are having a rave in the clouds

all hail the glow cloud

all hail the glow cloud

adamwtp

People disappear when they die. Their voice, their laughter, the warmth of their breath. Their flesh. Eventually their bones. All living memory of them ceases. This is both dreadful and natural. Yet for some there is an exception to this annihilation. For in the books they write they continue to exist. We can rediscover them. Their humor, their tone of voice, their moods. Through the written word they can anger you or make you happy. They can comfort you. They can perplex you. They can alter you. All this, even though they are dead. Like flies in amber, like corpses frozen in the ice, that which according to the laws of nature should pass away is, by the miracle of ink on paper, preserved. It is a kind of magic.