FUN FACT: No witches were burned in America (just drowned, crushed, starved, etc). FUN FACT #2: The only other place in America other than Salem that drowned a witch was my good ole hometown of Virginia beach, VA. (We even named a street after it. Witchduck rd = WitchduNk rd). FUN FACT #3: I read really weird shit on teh inturdweb at one in the morning.
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—And past the tropics, greens intense meet primitive desert. Here a Phantom Man leads the Dying Man with promises of life. From beauty to barrenness; hope springs from unlikely directions. From corners filled with people never paid any attention. And the dying man now sees all-along surrounded by phantoms, beings transparent to him. People empty and mysterious. Here at the boundary it is too late for noticing; the age of growth is finished. Reparations may not be made. The myth of eternity holds no weight. And no trade of false expectation may quell the stirring sensation nor alleviate the conclusion: to be content in the minutes a new feeling is born.
“My story isn’t sweet and harmonious like invented stories. It tastes of folly and bewilderment, of madness and dream, like the life of all people who no longer want to lie to themselves.”—Hermann Hesse (via hsaptus)