reflecting on fragments

''naturally we cannot expect all weird tales to conform absolutely to any theoretical model. creative minds are uneven and the best of fabrics have their dull spots... moreover, much of the choicest weird work is unconcious; appearing in memorable fragments scattered through material whose massed effect may be of a very different cast... therefore we must judge a weird tale... by the emotional level which it attains at its least mundane point... if the proper sensations are excited, such a "high spot" must be admited on its own merits as weird literature,''

h.p.lovecraft, super natural horror in literature.


''the spring day had started slowly as i had come to paris by train from london. the carriages had meandered through southern england, as if to give the passengers time to appreciate the picture postcard views of kent, before speeding through the featureless landscapes of northern france, impatient for the graceful architecture of paris, among which is one of the most remarkable perspectives in europe.

''from the midpoint of the arch de triomphe the line of sight along the champs elysees leads first to the obelisk at the centre of the place de la concorde and then runs the length of the tuileries gardens to the open arms of the louvre. where this line passes through the tuileries it has been used like a mirror with such draughtman's like precision the two halves of the garden are perfect reflections of one another. ...

''the entrance to the tuileries holds sinister statues of philosophers, gods, and dead frenchmen in its embrace; to your left and to your right the guardians stand in perfect symmetry. ... to every statue on one side there is a statue on the other, to every tree a tree, to every flower garden on the north side there is another planted at the same distance to the south. a water fountain sprays from the mouth of a nymph who is gazing soulfully at its clone, forever seperated by twice the distance to the centre line of the park.

''and so it went on until i saw the headless devil twenty metres down a side path. i knew that behind me, as yet unseen, would be a mirror image of this path that would lead to a correspondingly positioned plinth and fiendish statue. i half expected that this too would be broken, so preserving the symmetry of the park, but when i turned and looked i saw that its diabolic twin grinned from its plinth as it had done since the creation. in the entire garden the designer symmetry was perfect with the sole exception of the headless lucifer.''

frank close, lucifer's legacy.