Some Strange Desire
The hru-tesh is a beautiful piece of craftsmanship. Mother says he can remember Grandmother taking him, while still very small, to watch Josias Cunningham, Gunsmith by Appointment, of Fleet Street at work on it. In that small shop, in those small hours when the city slept, Josias Cunningham worked away while the spires and domes of Wren's dream of London rose from the ashes of the Great Fire, chasing and filing and boring and inlaying. It was a work of love, I suppose. A masterpiece he could never disclose to another living soul, for it was the work of demons.
How Westworld Turns
Stranger Things in Real Life
The Cave Painting
Angst Boards the Enterprise
E. O. Wilson on Genetic Destiny
A Kiss, a Wink, a Grassy Knoll
Not long after, he invited me to his Twenty-fourth Street apartment for dinner, to meet Natalie as well. With trepidation I agreed. Since high school I’d watched him perform his rituals with the blind regularity of a tribe which offered up its virgins without remembering why. A woman showed interest in him, he’d thrust his head into the maw of love; yet, if his feelings were reciprocated, the couple soon found themselves unable to develop their tryst into more than a brief corresponding of mutual obsessions; for as the woman’s lessened, his grew, and after so long she would pass again ghostlike into the night.