concert sans orchestre (scenes from childhood)

the pain is easy
if you're hearing screams
come back child, come back

obscure atmospheric conditions

even the wind's burden held a peculiar strain of conscious malignity; and for a second it seemed that the composite sound included a bizarre musical whistling or piping over a wide range as the blast swept in and out of the omnipresent and resonant cave-mouths. there was a cloudy note of reminiscent repulsion in this sound, as complex and unplaceable as any of the other dark impressions. (at the mountains of madness)

(sounds like dirt xxi & xxii) sing us one of your songs may

we have laid here
we have laid here
we have laid here before

we have laid here
we have laid here
we have laid here before

whistle sinking, blow the bugles
blues came back in night fight
rabbits laughing in black doyt-holes
lilies bleeding in the street

we have laid here
we have laid here
we have laid here before

captured armies, news impending
wheels longing now to stop

we have laid here
we have laid here
we have laid here before

we have laid here
we have laid here
we have laid here before

sing us one of your songs, may
the ones you know so well
sing us one of your songs, may
you know we love you well
dry the tears from your eyes, may
what's it gonna be?
for you know he's gone to heaven, may
though he was only 23

they say he was a brave one, may
and we all here agree
there never was a finer one, may
that died for his country

sing us one of your songs, may
the ones you know so well
sing us one of your songs, may
you know we love you well
dry the tears from your eyes, may
what's it gonna be?
for you know he's gone to heaven, may
though he was only 23

they say he was a brave one, may
and we all here agree
there never was a finer one, may
that died for his country

sing us one of your songs, may 

(music : bill fay / images : grandparent's wedding & focused relative)

a cold and unyielding surface of polished glass

and knew that their voyage was once more to be by water - or at least through some liquid. the galley struck the surface with a peculiar sound, and the odd elastic way the waves received it was very perplexing. they now slid along at great speed, once passing and haling another galley of kindred form, but generally seeing nothing but that curious sea and a sky that was black and star-strown (dream-quest)

(sounds like dirt xx) haven't had a dream in a long time

good times for a change
see, the luck i've had
can make a good man
turn bad

so please please please
let me, let me, let me
let me get what i want
this time

haven't had a dream in a long time
see, the life i've had
can make a good man bad

so for once in my life
let me get what i want
lord knows, it would be the first time
lord knows, it would be the first time

(words : the smiths / images : mother's curtains)

i have no guide for my return

behind and high above, a faint luminous blur told of the distant moonlit world outside

this is the world of which my dreams brought me dim, scattered echoes every night

the shadow out of time

photos taken in nh, a journey at night when winds from unknown spaces whirled me irresistibly into limitless vacua beyond all thought and entity

the colour out of space (the rural tales are queer)

all the farm was shining with the hideous unknown blend of colour...

it had a very queer colour, and as all the men clustered round the window ammi gave a violent start. for this strange beam of ghastly miasma was to him of no unfamiliar hue. he had seen that coloour before, and feared to think what it might mean. he had seen it in the nasty brittle globule in the aërolite two summers ago, had seen it in the crazy vegetation of the springtime, and had thought had seen it for an instant that very morning against the small barred window of that terrible attic room where nameless things had happened. it had flashed there a second, and a clammy and hateful current of vapour had brushed past him - and then poor nahum had been taken by something of that colour... and now that well was belching forth to the night a pale insidious beam of the same daemoniac tint.

surely the very look of the dark realm is enough to stir a morbid fancy.

when twilight came i had vaguely wished some clouds would gather, for an odd timidity about the deep skyey voids above had crept into my soul.