Monday, October 25, 2004

answers 'death.'

I hate the dreadful Hollow behind the little wood;
Its lips in the field above are dabbled with blood red health,
The red ribb'd ledges drip with a silent horror of blood
And Echo there, whatever is ask'd her, answers 'Death.'


[Lord Tennyson]

doesn't this seem awfully macabre? the image of crimson, fresh death, a subtlely yet unnervingly beautiful sight... okay i shall stop now before i sound too sinister for my nice, innocent blog.

good day everyone.

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