Reconstructing King Tut's Tomb
A week ago, stumbling about forlornly within the deepest abysses of summer-vacation-induced monotony, I found my battered old copy of Ian Shaw's 'The Oxford History of Ancient Egypt'. Thus was born
Search for a command to run...
A week ago, stumbling about forlornly within the deepest abysses of summer-vacation-induced monotony, I found my battered old copy of Ian Shaw's 'The Oxford History of Ancient Egypt'. Thus was born
Glinting slashes of white bone,Velvet dark of the unknown. An agile pounce, a booming roar,Blood seeps into the undergrowth. Blood-soaked earththe ichor of life Apollo’s wrath, muffled by storm.A shadow dispersed,A silence born.
The many divots and indents upon its body of glass twinkle like the stained windows of a cathedral at night, devoid of colour. Stains that smell like the twinkling of an old piano in a dusty library. A smell that coats the hollows of your bones, like...
A (very) short poem without the letter 'e'
Sometimes, falling asleep feels like tumbling down a tall, hollow building—the only light streaming in through tiny rows of windows at each floor that flash by you. And each flash of light is accompanied by a thudding boom that hollows your bones, a ...
The following presents the findings of a decidedly unserious investigation into suspiciously futuristic historical figures. Evariste Galois
Visiting the fair is like walking into a bizarre dream. Rich fabrics surround you, mottled with kaleidoscopic, intricate patterns of gold and silver. Sunlight streams through these wearable works of art, producing streams of coloured light; the place...
I wake, face down in a glittering desert. The sand resembles multi-coloured glass, shimmering like a dragon fly’s wings. The sky above is inky black, with no stars and no moon in sight.It seems to swirl and undulate, like patterns in obsidian or liqu...
Matteo Renaud hated the city. He hated the crowds and the noise, and especially the drab, grey buildings. In his opinion, no one should be compelled to live in such a place, let alone someone who was getting rather old—not that he'd admit the latter....