Omnes una manet nox

As I followed the less traveled road I reached a great old mansion. I knocked at the gate of lost time, nobody answered. I knocked a second time and kept knocking again and again. No response. No sounds. The house of lost time has ivy covering half of it, and ashes of a vanished past laying over the rest. Is a house where no body lives, and I kept rattling and calling, calling just to feel the pain of not being heard. Simply a lonely beat. The echo returns my urges to half-open these ice palaces of mine own. And in the end, night and day are mingled and confused by my hope, hope of waiting for the knocking to produce an echo or a reply…

The lost time certainly does not exist. Is just an empty condemned house…





"Illusion is the first of all pleasures." - Oscar Wilde





Listening to "Skeletons" - Yeah Yeah Yeahs