"I lost my ancient castle before I was born. The tapestries of my ancestral palace were sold before I existed. My manor house from before I had life fell into ruins, and only in certain moments, when the moon shines in me over the river’s reeds, do I shiver with nostalgia for the place where the toothless remains of the walls blackly stand out against the dark-blue sky made less dark by a milky yellow tinge.
I sphinxly discern myself. And from the lap of the queen I’m missing falls the forgotten ball of thread that’s my soul – a little mishap of her useless embroidery. It rolls under the inlaid chest of drawers, where part of me follows it like a pair of eyes, until it vanishes in a nameless, mortuary horror." (Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet).
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Atmosphere, Joy Division. Anton Corbijn.
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Stara prawda w księgach leży ("Old truth lies in books"), Marian Wawrzeniecki, 1910.
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Pochód Śmierci ("The March of Death"), Czesław Tańsk, c. 1898.
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Knowledge reached out into an absence
Reached out into darkness
Reached out in the silence
And there were no bounds
There were no bounds
And it was aware of the kind of growing hunger
A hunger for something that didn't exist
For the knowledge was only of absence
For pure and absolute absence
Durations of restlessness
Durations of hunger
An existence of only one dimension
But in the dark silence
In the void of all sensation
Something began to know
And there were no bounds
There were no bounds
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San Miguel triunfante sobre el Demonio con el donante Antoni Joan, 1468. Bartolomé Bermejo.
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Leonid Andreyev with painting of a demon (drawn by himself), circa 1910.
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Nico. Kensington Gardens, London, 1970. Barry Plummer.
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Armand in the Théâtre des Vampires. "Interview with The Vampire", 1994. Neil Jordan.
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Burgonet of Charles V. Photography Jane Clifford, circa 1865.
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Der Unzufriedene, Ludwig Knaus, 1877.
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Resistance (The Black Idol), František Kupka, 1903.
Black golden sun
under wings strigine,
eclipsing,
vast as battalions
of the ancient fall, thundering,
assaults the fortress of God.
Glacial piercing sun
over mythical mountains
magnetizes
the cursed, doomed strain,
in fratricidal strife,
to the gloomy joy of Belial.
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