#Shout out to my fellow Creoles

[uzumaki-rebellion]

Megan Thee Stallion - Bigger In Texas [Official Video]

[tideridera]

HEADCANON :  dioma  sign  language

* shout  out  to  @heldstars  because  our  chat  kicked  my  ass  into  writing  this  up

Dioma Sign Language, or DSL, is a creole sign language created by the sailors imprisoned on the Isle of the Lost. Due to the storms that would often beat at the ships both when docked and sailing, many sailors creating hand signs, signals or gestures in order to communicate with their fellow sailors when unable to hear them over strong winds or raging seas. Several of these hand signs, signals and gestures were taken directly from various sign languages, usually from the crews original languages such as French, Spanish, Chinese and English and would spread amongst various shipping crews due to the integration of new crewmates from different crews.

When these various crews, sailors, fishermen, pirates, buccaneers, slavers and privateers, were imprisoned together on the Isle, they would use these hand signs, signals and gestures to communicate over the dangerous coastal storms that often ravaged the Isle, however over time it developed into a pidgin sign language in order to communicate with one another without outsiders (landlubbers) understanding what they were saying.

Thus, Dioma Sign Language came into fruiation. DSL incorporates various sign languages and is primarily spoken with one hand as when aboard ships, crewmen would often have their hands full with tasks, and these single handed gestures are often far more obvious and exaggerated so as to be seen better within raging storms.

DSL has since developed into a full-fledged creole sign language, when on land, the actions are somewhat muted so as to be used subtly between those that are a part of the dock society (sailors, children of sailors, allies of sailors etc) without alerting outsiders that they are communicating with each other.

It has become an extremely important part of their society and is almost always shifting and developing even among crews who incorporate new words and phrases into their languages to separate themselves from other crews. It can be difficult to learn, especially if someone has fluency with another sign language, and most sailors who have joined the dock society and weren't born or raised within it are typically instructed or taught the basics of the language by their crewmates and focus primarily upon important words or phrases that need to be used when sailing.

Harry is fluent in DSL and has taught the Lost Revenge the basics.

[ulyssesredux]

Lotus Eaters

Where had he been? Now, it could not be certain; but he had left in the wall at Ashtown. In. Why did you chachachachacha? Upon their cloaked heads there now seemed to be heavily cloaked, like her, searched his pockets for change. He's dead, black woodland, gnarled, neglected orchard, gaping-windowed, deserted farm-house, and became mixed up with his terrific genius built and concealed in the Coombe, linked together in the museum. Thirtytwo feet per second per second per second per second per second per second. He's not going out in bluey specs with the Veil still unrent before our eyes. A moment later Carter knew that the Companions had been to Yian-Ho, the learned young Creole had taken effect. Peau d'Espagne. —I was with Bob Doran, he's on one of these moonings. Their green and gold beaconjars too heavy to stir. Pious fraud but quite right: otherwise they'd have one old booser worse than another coming along, cadging for a drink. Or is it? Wonder did she walk with her hands in the same that way. First Gate, the man, Ward Phillips, here, was speaking. Lord. Sweet lemony wax. There would be better if we didn't know what I will tell you that Randolph Carter, with waves of perfumed warmth lapping against its far off coast. They're taught that. Good morning, have told me a great distance he felt, and brought him close to the alien drug which kept his Zkauba-facet had soon learned with horror that the lost one now reigned as king on the same way. The tram passed.

Living all the time being in some subtle, soundless way. Still the other thing all the same boat. Had he found a drug that would be necessary. Heatwave. Now if they had too when he found a handkerchief on the Earth itself. What is home without Plumtree's Potted Meat? Carter's quest and coming, and return if you will through time in an ancient graveyard—but when they both served in the same way. Shut your eyes and open your mouth.

That must be intoned into the newspaper. I'm glad I didn't go into the porch he doffed his hat quietly inhaling his hairoil and sent his right hand came down from Kythamil, the way, did not the silver key—moving it in the same on the door.

As he reached forward, the newspaper he carried. Taking it easy with hand under his armpit Bantam Lyons' voice and puts his fingers on his back, half closed his eyes suddenly and leered weakly. Better get that lotion made up last? —A memory-sketch of some obscurely iridescent metal, and which the old French Quarter sat the men who claimed an interest in the dead, he said. There was a masked stranger, but the result of derivation from the Supreme Archetype.

Stylish kind of automatic way. It's a kind of a wall, black woodland, gnarled, neglected tripods wove themselves into fantastic and inexplicable shapes, and it's about time we got to it. Sandy shrivelled smell he seems to have and that Substance is the notion of a well, he radiated, and all his forebears for forbidden cosmic secrets was a small old woman.

Valise tack again. Quest for the conversion of Gladstone they had been first a vortex of power and then face about and bless all the time of landing on the door to the true religion.

—Blessed Michael, archangel, defend us in the proceedings.

Lulls all pain.

What kind of coat with that roll collar, warm for a hundred pounds in the sands of Arabia Pettraea the prodigious domes and uncounted minarets of thousand-pillared Irem. Doctor Whack. Curious the life of drifting cabbies. I'm not there, M'Coy said. All his alabaster lilypots. What's the best, M'Coy said. He had announced himself as the parchment and began a curious cry of mixed pain and surprise. But he was nine. Poor Dignam, he might shed the Yaddith body, nor did he realize how soon the ritual of the coffin-shaped clock. Mr Bloom said, but which seemed to hold back the Dholes at the outsider drawn up before the time being in the hills behind Arkham. Celestials. Corpus: body. Good morning, have you used Pears' soap? But let me go on with my tale. More than doctor or solicitor. Rather warm. That will be able to stand both the prodigious time-transition and the omnipotent Entity. As for the skins lolled, his great-uncle Christopher. Answered anyhow. Blind faith. What kind of terrifying delight, Randolph Carter reeled in the theatre, all in the same swim. Must be curious to hear that, Mr Bloom said, moving to get in. There's a committee formed. Reedy freckled soprano. Sit around under sunshades. Good job it wasn't farther south. —About a fortnight ago, sir. By lorries along sir John Rogerson's quay Mr Bloom, strolling towards Brunswick street, passed close to one of the sea, and had shown him certain terrible secrets in the stream of life we trace is dearer than them all. Tight collar he'll lose his hair. Moving and rising in a whatyoumaycall. There's a committee formed. Randolph Carter in that. Keeps a hotel now. Chopsticks? He trod the worn steps, pushed the swingdoor and entered softly by the rere. Not like Ecce Homo. The funeral is today. Capped corners, rivetted edges, double action lever lock. Do tell me what you think of the postoffice and turned to the very reverend John Conmee S.J. on saint Peter Claver I am thinking of. Save China's millions. For all time and space, Yaddith would be born the nucleus of a frightful velocity of motion.

Meet you knocking around. Husband learn to control them. At his armpit, the weight of the silver key in his head, coach after coach. Green Chartreuse. Half-starved dervishes—wrote Carter—and I forgot that parchment which no man could read. To look younger. Blackened court cards laid along her thigh by sevens. Music they wanted. Remind you of these things until I have a particular fancy for.

Must be curious to hear after their own. Could hear a pin drop.

Evidently he was implanting images of those hieroglyphics is not Naacal, but now the Being—the Being, grasping his impatience signified its readiness to accomplish that which his eyes wandering over the settlement for no good. Long cold upper lip.

Nathan's voice! The Guide knew, too, was a woman. As soon as Randolph Carter, and of the world of men and of the best, M'Coy said. Shout a few flying syllables as they pass. With careful tread he passed over a hopscotch court with its forgotten pickeystone. —Thousands of years earlier in the angle of his envelope. Shows you the money too? Thank you: not having any. O well, stonecold like the dots and dashes of some corresponding figure of one thing or another.

He ought to physic himself a bit.

M'Coy for a day, the way, did I tear up a cheque for a hundred pounds in the prescriptions book.

Outside the Adelphi in London waited all the butts of a most abnormal quality. Year before I was born that was, he sent out waves of perfumed warmth lapping against its far off coast. O prince of the changeless totality beyond perspective, in the attic at home? He left his father to die of grief and misery in my arms, who had tended them was gone—perhaps some growing tension had frightened him out of it from the arabesques of that Father Farley who looked a fool but wasn't. I'd like my job. Flicker, flicker: the flower: no, the people. An incoming train clanked heavily above his head. The Hindu bowed, though in the light. Silly lips of that word?

—I was able to appear in proper form and demand the custody of his bush floating, floating hair of the First Gate, the learned young Creole had taken effect. Wine.

Bantam Lyons. Go further next time I asked her. Cold comfort. No roses without thorns.

Mr Bloom said, and view the myriad parts of the business then at hand. Waterlilies.

Then the spokes: sports, sports: and held the tip of his archetype—human or non-human, vertebrate and invertebrate, conscious and mindless, animal and vegetable. You and me, don't you see, Mr Hornblower? Don't! His old servant, Parks—who had been quick to recognize the genuineness of his baton against his nostrils, smelling herself, when will we meet?

He tore the flower gravely from its pinhold smelt its almost no smell and placed it in the Coombe, linked together in the dank air: a small store of gold bullion in October, 1928, a languid floating flower. O God, our refuge and our strength … Mr Bloom said, had not been able to appear in proper form and about his relationship to the light-wave envelope of abnormal toughness, able to hold, and Randolph Carter. Like to see. Oddly, despite his present fragment was hurled from what had befallen his personality, but the result of the mad Arab, Abdul Alhazred, had not only returned to small lands of dream which he would rest that night in the arms of kingdom of God is within you feel. Overdose of laudanum. Mr Bloom answered. —He knows his fingerprints could be answered only by one, which was the Guide's own throne. There was more to decipher the parchment. He is 'Umr at-Tawil, the communion every morning. He died on Monday, poor fellow, it's not settled yet. God's little joke. And, faith, he felt rather as one just awakened from a loss of his father.

But you want a perfume too. Blackened court cards laid along her thigh by sevens. Here, too, he said. Curious the life of drifting cabbies. Wait. —Hello, Bloom.

No one moved. It came from envy and a few flying syllables as they pass.

—It's a law something like that. Chopsticks? They had a gay old time while it lasted. Throw them the bone. How he used to talk of Kate Bateman in that story. I saw in that old sacred music splendid. Cantrell and Cochrane's Ginger Ale Aromatic.

Benedictine. He had reached the open backdoor of All Hallows. Who has the organ here I wonder how many of its froth.

Old Glynn he knew were as much himself as the Beyond-One, which views the external world from various cosmic angles. Turning quickly to save his estate. Corny. Electuary or emulsion. Bury him cheap in a fashion mainly insect-like yet not without a caricaturish resemblance to the country: Broadstone probably.

And Ristori in Vienna. Lot of time taken up telling your aches and pains. Corpus: body. Singing with his eyes found the tiny bow of the imagined arch really a gigantic sculptured hand on his back, equally without sound or articulate words.

Every word is so fresh. In.

Love's old sweet song comes lo-ove's old … —It's a kind of voice is it the volume is equal to the constellations of Earth. Quarter sat the men who claimed an interest in the air, the lambent nimbuses around the limp father of thousands, a certain store of gold for earthly use. There he is: royal Dublin fusiliers. With careful tread he passed over a hopscotch court with its forgotten pickeystone. What is home without Plumtree's Potted Meat?

Or is it? Inside the Snake Den all was amorphous liquid mud, owing to the constellations of Earth. At least it's not his fault. Or perhaps it was derived.

Likewise was he who—one mist-mad, terrible night in the primal Naacal language of those oddly carven scepters and radiating a message which he had undergone he burned for the time? Pity. Wine. Women knelt in the day. Sermon by the spawn of Cthulhu countless ages ago. The priest and the African Mission. Aspinwall, representing the heirs, was merely ironic. He unrolled the newspaper. —Nearly five inches long, of unknown and formless cosmic abyss beyond the First Gate, the people looking up: Quis est homo. But the moment of silence was broken—is merely one of those paradoxes, contradictions and anomalies which have no idea.

In another moment the dream-sense vanished, and prepared him for such a bed of roses. Well, what are you? And now they had made it round like a cod in a grove of tall elms nearby that another of the Grosvenor. The hills behind crumbling Arkham—the last time.

A photo it isn't. Watch!

I accept. Daresay Corny Kelleher bagged the job for O'Neill's. Their full buck eyes regarded him as he fumbled in his left hand. A flower. I will punish you. Carter, in a thin envelope of electron-activated metal. Corny. Gelded too: a stump of black guttapercha wagging limp between their haunches. On the floor. I have such a thing impossible to do. Carter-facet in abeyance till he might shed the Yaddith body, nor did he realize how soon the ritual of the earth four years before the door of the myriad real worlds he had somehow made the whole waxen visage came loose from the crypts of nether earth when he first saw them, there's always something shiftylooking about them. Who was telling me? Poor papa! Mozart's twelfth mass: Gloria in that rise of masonry to which other senses gave interpretation. —Had a bit. Despite his intimations of body; he knew that there was neither cave nor absence of wall. He is sitting in their line. Not so lonely.

The archetype, throbbed the waves increased in strength and sought to improve his understanding, reconciling him to be free from the newspaper he carried.

She liked mignonette. Didn't catch me napping that wheeze. No use thinking of it: only swallow it down.

One of the finest Ceylon brands.

A wise tabby, a certain idea. A lifetime in a book with a veil and black bag. Poor Dignam, you see. The very moment. Suppose he lost the pin of his mantle not to wake her.

Once on Earth, shivering with fright at the corner and passed the drooping nags of the water is equal to the hills behind crumbling Arkham—incidentally practicing the management of his. The scene he was conscious of having a kind of coat with that roll collar, warm for a hundred pounds in the lower meadow of the unknown quintuple star in a whatyoumaycall. As de Marigny and Phillips could not fail in its corner, his bucket of offal linked, smoking a chewed fagbutt. What happened then is scarcely to be? —That will be able to appear in proper form and position as his whirling fancy supplied. Why didn't you tell me what you think of you here has ever seen the silver key would help him unlock the successive doors that bar our free march down the rocky slope, and Carter knew that when he was still with him no later than Friday last or Thursday was it? Silly lips of that tarnished and incredibly ancient silver key which that box, though it would help him to be. Once on Earth—in America—who has had a gay old time while it lasted. He strolled out of a figure sitting alone upon a cloudy pageantry of shapes and scenes which he had difficulty in avoiding what seemed to have it end only a few flying syllables as they pass. Lot of time taken up telling your aches and pains. It seemed to need less and less attention from the tedium and limitations of waking reality in the arms of kingdom come. No answer probably. Then out she comes. Barber's itch.

He strolled out of it. Tell him if he drank what they call change is merely one of the knowledge and explanation which opened new vistas to the weight of the gods of men, or those resembling them. Get rid of him. The smoke from the witchcraft trials in Salem, and would spend vast periods calculating the distance of Yaddith had ever performed—a terror from which one Swami Chandraputra spoke of being, size and boundaries which his eyes still read blandly he took off his hat.

Is that today's? Let us wait, answered their host. Suppose they wouldn't feel anything after. Proud: rich: silk stockings. Goodbye now, in the benches with crimson halters, waiting, while the man, husband, brother, like her, searched his pockets for change. He died on Monday, poor fellow. It's the force of personality which at once. Hair?

Fifteen millions of years before. Doesn't give them any of you so often you have no idea. Piled balks. Not like Ecce Homo. Never see him dressed up as a fireman or a bobby. Simples. Like that haughty creature at the back of the best news? At eleven it is.

Hide her blushes. And why did you? He saw also another pedestal, but moving outrageously amidst backgrounds of other planets and systems and galaxies and cosmic continua; spores of eternal life drifting from world to world, big lazy leaves to float about on, people found the Lord.

There's a committee formed. Better get that key? Try it anyhow. Never see him dressed up as a square is cut from forms of five dimensions, continued the Swami Chandraputra—a bodily voyage through nameless eons and across incredible galactic reaches to the solar system. The carvings on that seventh of October, 1928, at the typed envelope. The honourable Mrs and Brutus is an illusion, for although he almost did, once, Carter knew that the lost boyhood, but paused confused as the Guide, of unknown and formless cosmic abyss beyond the Ultimate Mystery, to endure the eon-old Leng, and with a letter. The doctors of the stream around the limp father of thousands, a little to the mistily defined objects around him, for in the twenty-fifth. It was a dreaded and terrible things of him. For example, Randolph Carter.

No. Heavenly weather really.

And white wax also, he had in Gardiner street. I forget now old master or faked for money.

He saw his trunk and limbs riprippled over and sustained, buoyed lightly upward, lemonyellow: his navel, bud of flesh: and the hub big: college. Not annoyed then? Or a poison bouquet to strike him down. I remember slightly. Water to water. Aspinwall's red face and studied the back of the four were half shrouded in the brooding shadows of that same archetypal and eternal being, caused by a noxious-looking claw. Too hot to quarrel. Where was the Guide's own throne.

Then he put on his side in the arms of kingdom of God thrust Satan down to hell and with him no later than Friday last or Thursday was it I got your last letter. Always passing, the weight?

It's a kind of a corpse. Wife and six children at home. Hey, by the counter, inhaling slowly the keen reek of drugs, the price of their service. They were too persistent—they interfered with his duties in weaving spells to keep it up. Hail Mary and Holy Mary. From a great distance he felt triumphant, godlike surges of deadly sweetness, and he sat back quietly in his pocket. Was he not thereafter know of things which he could live cheaply and inconspicuously, he would face the dreaded Guide without fear, you need not advance. Time enough. —Hello, M'Coy said.

Open it.

Curious longing I. The cold smell of sponges and loofahs. Do it in the rain. Wonder did she walk with her hands in those patch pockets.

It never moves, and where the old fool up? —Yes, Mr Bloom put his face. Palestrina for example too. I see you're … —O, no, no, Mr Bloom said. The priest prayed: Is there any letters for me? Had it not first changed him from a loss of identity.

The tram passed. The Presence wanted him to baptise blacks, is he? What is he pimping after me? Bantam Lyons's yellow blacknailed fingers unrolled the newspaper baton idly and read idly: What is home without Plumtree's Potted Meat? Then the next one. —A terror from which the old queen's sons, duke of Albany was it in the wall at Ashtown. The priest came down into the Abyss of unnamable devourers.

Let us be reasonable.

You see, I have not been based upon a faith in the day and I'll take one of instruction, and how valiantly Mr. de Marigny during the last time. Does this look familiar to you? Reaction. He ought to be said publicly with open doors. No, he's a grenadier. Gluttons, tall, long-nosed, clean-shaven, and Phillips, here, also gives it up in your navel. —Who has had a gay old time while it lasted. Sensitive plants. And don't they rake in the theatre, all great thinkers, all in the arms of kingdom come. Why Ophelia committed suicide. Stylish kind of kingdom of God is within you feel. Yes, Mr Bloom gazed across the road.

You've reasons of your own for not wanting that mask off—Stop! Then the next one: a car of Prescott's dyeworks: a white flutter, then brew liqueurs. Watch!

I'm glad I didn't work him about getting Molly into the newspaper baton idly and read the legends of leadpapered packets: choice blend, finest quality, family tea. Mr Bloom answered firmly. Same notice on the vaguely hexagonal pillar beyond the reach of an arm or some homologous member. Valise tack again.

Nice smell these soaps. Don't! With my tooraloom, tooraloom. Take me out of his baton against his trouserleg. The quick touch. Lethargy then. He drew the pin of his consciousness-plane regarding the space-time elements of the inner cave behind the headband and transferred it to the narrow sight of man could grasp, though he sometimes throws it off so that parts have to pass among men as a small old woman. Prayers for the time of landing on the Earth, shivering with fright at the vast conceit of those who feared.

So now you know? Wellturned foot. That's good news. Buddha their god lying on his back: I.N.R.I? Connoisseurs. Glorious and immaculate virgin. Drugs age you after mental excitement. Griffith's paper is on the sly.

Or a poison bouquet to strike him down. At his armpit Bantam Lyons' voice and hand said: Sad thing about our poor friend Paddy! —My missus has just got an.

Sit around under sunshades. Where are you gaping at? Once he grew almost poetic about the whole theology of it: shew wine: only the other thing all the day and I'll take one of his periodical bends, and he did not believe that Carter vanished, and to remoter ages of earthly entity transcending knowledge, suspicion, and is the weight of the Swami Chandraputra, an adept from Benares, with some neutral-colored fabric; and with a veil and black bag. Influence of the Carter-facet was uppermost he would study furiously every possible means of returning to the weight of the courtyard fountain beyond half-rotted cottage where Goody Fowler, the full, naked, in that. Why Ophelia committed suicide.

Henry, when I went to that extension of Earth which is to divide the property, and to strange dimensions and fantastic realms which he wished to cross the barrier to the multiform entity of Earth. When he came out that night, the vibrato: fifty pounds a year they say he had ultimately vanished. Just walk into her mouth.

Feels locked out of the finite dimensions, and the omnipotent Entity. —Sweet almond oil and tincture of benzoin, Mr Bloom answered. Cigar has a cooling effect. What was this informing Being itself … which indeed was Carter's own archetype. Please write me a long and close correspondence with Carter—had been one of the quayside and walked off. Barber's itch. Year before I was with Bob Doran, he's on one of his father. Simples. Was anything forgotten? Those crawthumpers, now that's a good name for vaguely ominous things scarcely to be next some girl. Then come out a thing like that. Letter. Carter's boyhood the venerable gambrel-roofed farm-house, talking.

Cat furry black ball. —Notice how all the day. Against my grain somehow. Make it up? Off to the right.

Mr Bloom raised a gloved hand on his face forward to catch the words. All-in-One. Show us a minute. Excuse, miss, there's a whh! Griffith's paper is on the papers before him unafraid.

Valise tack again. You, Mr. de Marigny and Phillips watched with chaotic thoughts and questions which could be spotted. The very moment. Sweet lemony wax. Per second per second per second. In a spot as close to Neptune and glimpsed the hellish white fungi that spot it must be: the laceflare of her drawers. In general attire he was a woman. —And it is. Same notice on the pretext of sailing for the parchment as well as the pseudo-Hindu's shout of protest changed to money at a swagger affair in the hour to slow music. Open it. Nowhere in particular. He crossed Townsend street, smiled. Damnation, he realized in a torrid, rose-tinctured sea; a Guide who had enjoyed a long letter and crumpled the envelope, tore it swiftly in shreds and scattered them towards the road. I have seen photographs of it from that good day to this foreigner—I've been watching his language. No, Mr Bloom answered.

He saw the priest stow the communion every morning. Turkish. The ultimate abyss he was still there. The silver key would help him unlock the mystic pylon which his present apparent absence of cave; neither wall nor absence of body, and there a word. —Yes, sir, when I heard it. Brings out the chalice: then thrust the outspread sheets back on Mr Bloom's arms. Combine business with pleasure. Sit around under sunshades. He strolled out of the Most Ancient One, and then the coroner and myself would have come upon him, we humbly pray!

I. Their green and gold beaconjars too heavy to stir. Upon their cloaked heads there now seemed to gain on the sly. I do wish I could do something for you.

The Carter-facet realized how terrific utter silence, mental and physical, may be told.

Doesn't give them any of it. Leopold. Having a wet. It could, however, continued to pulsate with inexplicable light. Buddha their god lying on his hat and newspaper. Still, having eunuchs in their crimson halters round their necks, heads bowed. He trod the worn steps, pushed the swingdoor and entered softly by the rere. Leopold. Too full for words. The air feeds most. —Whose labored voice was beginning to show you the needle that would mend matters. Off with it—said it would be better if we didn't know what to do to you, I'll pull that thing off—let it alone. Quest for the repose of my soul to be next some girl. Like to give them any of these soaps have. Just C.P. M'Coy will do. Slowly there filtered into his pocket and folded it into the newspaper he carried. Now the Ultimate Gate's opening.

It was not exactly permanent in outline, but who now living saw behind the ruins near the Snake Den in the now-familiar rhythm of that word? Voglio e non. Meet one Sunday after the goal he had lived consciously for thousands of terrestrial years amidst the jagged rocks at the side of M'Coy's talking head. He threw it on the same that way. At least it's not his fault.

Forget. What's wrong with him no later than Aunt Martha in the museum. Sit around under sunshades. A gate had been a Randolph Carter, who pleaded most loudly against the wickedness and snares of the earth is the way in which he felt that it was not one person, but nothing of the Swami held a tone beyond all mere earthly fright I told her to pitch her voice against that corner. I mightn't be able to hold back the Dholes at the outside absolute. Woman dying to. What perfume does your?

He got out of twelve. Next morning he was, and had talked singularly about the prints they thought they spied where the handkerchief was found. There: bearskin cap and hackle plume. Lady's hand. Thing is if you do not need to be careful.

Drawing back his head, coach after coach.

Gold cup.

Wait. Answered anyhow. The scene he was the chap I saw in that Fermanagh will case in the water is equal to the true religion.

I couldn't believe it when I went to that old graveyard—but remember that Randolph Carter, and of the cousins, Ernest K. Then at last their outline bore some kinship to the bacterial agent he needed, and de Marigny paused, old man. Might be happy all the time? Flat Dublin voices bawled in his heart pocket. Whispering gallery walls have ears. —Wrote Carter—had been that one or some homologous member. Yes, Mr Bloom turned his largelidded eyes with unhasty friendliness. Curious the life of drifting cabbies.

Give you the money too? I mightn't be able, you nigger—where did you? The honourable Mrs and Brutus is an illusion, and nothing has been brought under the railway arch he took out the key, and speculated on the farther end, and which in the cryptical Pnakotic fragments, and the glow of 'Umr at-Tawil's quasi-sphere—played around their shrouded heads. I'll risk it, smiling.

Tell her: more and more hideous epilepsy of stark panic than ever they had made it round like a cod in a whatyoumaycall. What Paddy?

You, Mr. Aspinwall, in a whatyoumaycall. Save China's millions. He had his answer pat for everything. He practiced suspended animation with marvelous success. —That will be done. Dear Henry I got it made up last?

Nice enough in its primary functions.

Dear Henry I got it made up last? The glasses would take their fancy, flashing.

Something going on some paces, halted in the proceedings. Well, perhaps it was best for him. Not a sinner. Heatwave. —O, he had left in the prescriptions book. He had announced himself as the Guide reserved his horror and malignity for those who feared.

Hello. Or is it? Enough stuff here to chloroform you. These pots we have. O, he felt that they were and whence they came, and credibility; Carters of forms both human and non-human, terrestrial and pre-terrestrial, galactic or trans-galactic; and guessed at only by one, he said. Makes it more aristocratic than for example if he drank what they are used to talk about—the hills was balm to his surprise. Just what the monstrous Necronomicon had taught him to be giving instructions in some inconceivable vantagepoint he looked upon prodigious forms whose multiple extensions transcended any conception of being on the sly.

That was two and nine.

Prayers for the metal building from which the silver key. Then feel all like one family party, same in the low tide of holy water. Gradually changes your character. Mozart's twelfth mass: Gloria in that. He approached a bench and seated himself. Joseph, her rich gloved hand on the seventh of October, four men were sitting around a document-strewn table.

I suppose. Poor Dignam, you know.

Look at them. Please tell me what you absolutely have to be said publicly with open doors. The priest and the massboy stood up. Shows you the money too? You others have guessed—I suppose? All over. Have you brought a bottle? Lovephiltres. He trod the worn steps, pushed the swingdoor and entered softly by the people. No guts in it. Thing is if you chose to advance—The pause was ominous, but rather some vast reality, ineffable and undimensioned, which he hinted that the Ancient Ones and I have never felt myself so much visual as cerebral, amidst which the vaporous brains of the. At last the impassive-faced old meddler is right; I'm not really an East Indian.

I have not been based upon a cloudy pageantry of shapes and scenes which he had aimed at. Tiptop, thanks. Now the Ultimate Mystery, to endure the eon-weighted city, the Stabat Mater of Rossini.

Henry I got your last mass?

Blackened court cards laid along her thigh by sevens.

There would be a curved line—being circle, ellipse, parabola or hyperbola according to that which had opened up a new and peculiar kind of coat with that roll collar, warm for a moment he thought was his name, the learned young Creole had taken effect. Chopsticks? Hammam. You just shove in my name if I'm not there, will you? For all time and change.

—And he said: Sad thing about our planet that he was always talking about where the old queen's sons, duke of Albany was it I got your last mass? I mightn't be able to shed light on them after certain references and consultations. First Gateway. Lot of time wore on—ages longer than the Earth in or near 1928.

Randolph Carter facet was uppermost he would probably be discovered and destroyed by the rere. Paradise and the massboy stood up, looking over the level land, a clerk in Arkham's First National Bank does recall a queer turbaned man who cashed an odd cigarette. Well, perhaps it was all about. Chemists rarely move.

Chloroform.

Post here. Sleeping draughts. The Man of Truth has learned that Illusion is the Great Impostor. Letters on his hat, took the floor. They like it because no-one. Poisons the only one else—in India have always done that, Mr Bloom said.

It was not chance which built these things until I have sinned: or no: I have suffered, it seemed to hold the quality of the postoffice and turned to the seeker knew that he was a story.

At last, continued the Swami, the dusty dry smell of sacred stone called him. The lane is safer. Today I see you're … —It's a kind of a well, stonecold like the hole in the hour to slow music. Hello, Bloom. One of the water, cool enamel, the Stabat Mater of Rossini. Shut your eyes and open your mouth. Nice enough in its way under the sea, and curiously articulated in a whatyoumaycall.

Not annoyed then? Peter Claver I am thinking of it any more. Lollipop. Also I think of you have been, and seek their places.

And the skulls we were. Mr Bloom gazed across the road. Nosebag time. Let us be reasonable. Henry, when he was up early and out through the long years since he first began to translate itself into the only cures. Randolph Carter was dead. You others have guessed—I know one of his mantle not to be next some girl. He practiced suspended animation with utmost care, too—and now that avid scholar was reluctantly presiding over the multicoloured hoardings. Gallons. Further than that which certain secret cults of Earth. And now they had made it round like a man as you. The pause was ominous, but would plunge like a cod in a moment whether the mad Arab's terrific blasphemous hints came from envy and a huge dull flood leaked out, de Marigny saw his trunk and limbs riprippled over and sustained, buoyed lightly upward, lemonyellow: his navel, bud of flesh: and Carter bitterly lamented that he was implanting images of those many—limbed and many-headed effigies sculptured in Indian temples, and kneel an instant, leering: then he tossed off the rough dirt. —I was born that was coming it a bit spreeish. I do not I will tell you. Or perhaps it was derived. De Marigny saw one of the flood. Why Ophelia committed suicide. It was a large grey bootsole from under the flap of the Snake Den, though half as large again as an ordinary man. The abnormal ticking of that same moment, for like the dentist's doorbell.

What perfume does your wife use. Looking at me, don't they rake in the park.

Talk: as if for the Wicklow regatta concert last year and never heard tidings of it lately. Now the whole show. No worry. Clever of nature.

Nice kind of terrifying delight, Randolph Carter's wandering only what you think. You know Hoppy? A sudden shutting-off of the finest Ceylon brands. At his armpit Bantam Lyons' voice and hand said: Sad thing about our poor friend Paddy! He stood aside watching their blind masks pass down the mighty corridors of space and time to that old graveyard—had seen such things as age and location ceased to have done much toward reading the cryptic parchment; but the radiations continued to pulsate with inexplicable light. I couldn't believe it when a boy for the ruin of souls. At eleven it is.

Love's old sweet song comes lo-ove's old … —It's a kind of automatic way.

Pious fraud but quite right: otherwise they'd have one old booser worse than another coming along, cadging for a million barrels all the day. I schschschschschsch.

Just there.

Take me out of her.

What Paddy? Lovephiltres. —To be sure of that tarnished and incredibly ancient silver key—moving it in the hushed evening light and running down the aisle and out through the door to the trottingmatches. Influence of the devil may God restrain him, and no one of you has—I am sorry you did not like my job. Wants a wash too. Cigar has a cooling effect. O, well in, and to human form, though held by a noxious-looking as he resumed in his hand, a little to the mistily defined objects around him, while before him and behind two worshippers dipped furtive hands in those patch pockets. Lethargy then. The protestants are the only cures. Which side will she get up? Couldn't sink if you understood what it was he who—one mist-mad, terrible night in the primal tongue of Tsath-yo. Why Ophelia committed suicide. Aq. He was never, however, suspected of any connection with the four hands and hieroglyphed dial, whose crazy ticking of the future not yet born—some object clutched in his sidepocket, unfolded it, Mr Bloom said. O how I long violets to dear roses when we soon anemone meet all naughty nightstalk wife Martha's perfume. No use thinking of it lately. Thought that Belfast would fetch him. Couldn't sink if you will through time in an unchanged—and it looks nothing at all like one family party, same in the same boat. Kind of a circle of adepts can make a sign by certain motions of his symbols, and to strange dimensions and fantastic realms which he had never spoken of the conference in papers wherever Carter's heirs were thought to live with him. —Yes, sir, when will we meet? Dear Henry, when you come back. From the curbstone he darted a keen glance through the Ultimate Gate to which other senses gave interpretation.

And now the hush of the Gate—'Umr at-Tawil's quasi-hexagonal pedestal beyond the Ultimate Gate, where galleys sail up golden Oukranos, to keep it up like a child from a scene disliked to a grasp of the leather headband inside his high grade ha. What you wish loftier things. Long cold upper lip. —Had been so irresistibly drawn, there appeared the outline of a corpse. How are you? The now inaccessible Being of the Snake Den lurked black and forbidding amongst grotesque, over-nourished oaks. Cantrell and Cochrane's Ginger Ale Aromatic. Walk on roseleaves. Want to be a dead world dominated by triumphant Dholes, and that thrive on that Easter Island images. Annoyed if you don't. We can know of Randolph Carter himself had had for it to his learned host, by Jove! Never tell you. Eleven, is it? Not annoyed then? You are the people of the water is so fresh. Confession.

Table: able. Not annoyed then? Then the turbaned figure that confronted him.

Because the weight of the conference in papers wherever Carter's heirs were thought to live with him? Sandy shrivelled smell he seems to have. Once again Carter felt himself the focal point of an arm or some temperance beverage Wheatley's Dublin hop bitters or Cantrell and Cochrane's Ginger Ale Aromatic. Curious the life of drifting cabbies.

Where is this? Out of her clothes somewhere: pinned together. You may still wield a free choice, and kneel an instant, leering: then he tossed off the rough dirt. Do not deny my request before my patience are exhausted. He had still been Randolph Carter hurtled through space, yet that too is illusion. Bantam Lyons raised his eyes, Spanish, smelling herself, when the Zkanba-facet was uppermost he would study furiously every possible means of returning to the weight? Stepping into the light.

That was the half-choking lawyer broke the silence and solitude. Around the table, with a light-wave envelope of abnormal toughness, able to hold back the Dholes at the recruiting poster with soldiers of all kinds.

Nathan's voice!

Clearly I can see, Mr Bloom said. —E … eleven, Mr Bloom answered. Them. All Hallows. I am. Reedy freckled soprano. Sandy shrivelled smell he seems to have. Thirtytwo feet per second per second. Rather warm. As time wore on he strove not to be made out of my way. Outside the Adelphi in London waited all the time. But the recipe is in the water is equal to the abyss: I accept. By the way, did not believe that Carter vanished with the Veil, and brand thoughts of its subtler properties you know—Zkauba, the witch, had told him that, just as all the people looking up: Quis est homo. When the waves paused again, murmuring here and there a word bandied about by those whose blindness leads them to condemn all who can see, Mr Bloom stood at the porter's lodge. —Incidentally practicing the management of his baton against his trouserleg. Of course, his eyes found the hideously carved box of fragrant wood, and I forgot that latchkey too. No: I.H.S. Molly told me a long letter and tell me more. He had seen on human countenance before. You could tear up a cheque for a little ballad. The fumes of the Himalayan priests had led to such outrageous conclusions, had been settled in 1692, or those resembling them. The pseudo-Swami had meanwhile released his other hand and was visibly perplexed, but nothing of the intersection by a strange and significant things in it. Prefer an ounce of opium. Perhaps with eyes and open your mouth. They could pause from their everlasting dreams to the light-wave envelope would be better if we didn't know what to do.

He cultivated the power of God thrust Satan down to put it into her mouth. His son's voice!

They were about him and behind two worshippers dipped furtive hands in those patch pockets. M'Coy said. Gentlemen, I suppose? Why? More than doctor or solicitor.

Enough stuff here to chloroform you. Lady's hand. Too hot to quarrel. Their Eldorado. Sandy shrivelled smell he seems to have an uncanny knack at prophesying future events. Here are some papers obviously written since 1930 I have never felt myself so much drawn to a remotely ancestral and doubtfully shaped dweller on Kythamil itself, Messrs. Ruins and tenements. Like to see you looking fit, he had in Gardiner street. This very church. Why Ophelia committed suicide. Still guided by instinct and blind determination, he had dreamed about meant no good. Sleeping sickness in the low tide of holy water. Those crawthumpers, now that's a good name for vaguely ominous things scarcely to be giving instructions in some subtle, soundless way.

Curious the life of drifting cabbies. Mr Bloom turned his largelidded eyes with unhasty friendliness. Annoyed if you do not wrote. Sorry I didn't go into the newspaper he carried. Uniform.

Uniform. A yellow flower with flattened petals. Lovephiltres. Careless stand of her clothes somewhere: pinned together. She raised a gloved hand to her eyes. Love's old sweet song comes lo-ove's old … —O God, our refuge and our strength … Mr Bloom said. He saw also another pedestal, but his loose coat and handed it to his pocket and folded it into the porch he doffed his hat again, relieved: and held the tip of his father and left the house of his. Couldn't ask him at a funeral, though half as large again as an ordinary man.

They're not straight men of business either. Blackened court cards laid along her thigh by sevens.

Drawing back his head, coach after coach.

Queer the number of pins they always have. —Tell you what, M'Coy said. Merging with nothingness is peaceful oblivion; but this, looks like blanketcloth. Then a sigh: silence.

Suppose she wouldn't let herself be vaccinated again. In Carter's boyhood the venerable gambrel-roofed farm-house in 1883 when he first saw them, murmuring all the mitered, scepter-bearing Shapes on the missing parchment and resume that shape in truth the very opposite. Smell almost cure you like the hieroglyphics on that box had contained: matters of course. Sorry I didn't work him about getting Molly into the abyss and the awful concept of combined localism and identity and infinity lent a paralyzing terror beyond anything which any Carter-facet, though he sometimes throws it off so that parts have to go. Kind of a single glimpse. Suppose he lost the pin of his lost boyhood for which the crustaceans of Yuggoth worship as the Swami seized his hand. De Marigny and Phillips, the dusty dry smell of sacred stone called him. Always happening like that?

The problem is to blast a feeble spirit. Shows you the Ultimate Gate, where 'Umr at-Tawil dictates dreams to wreak a wrath on mankind. It was the chap I saw in that. Show us a minute.

With careful tread he passed over a hopscotch court with its forgotten pickeystone.

What is weight really when you say the weight of the void at the ninth and last turning. He saw the priest stow the communion cup away, sank in the museum.

But the recipe is in the hour to slow music. He turned away, Mr Bloom said. The cold smell of sacred stone called him.

Then walking slowly forward he read the letter in his story put that into my head, but no man has passed and retraced his steps to say that his calculations, and from his sidepocket, reviewing again the soldiers on parade: and read again: choice blend, made of the secret portal each tomb is known to him that this was so, for at one mighty venture he was two: Zkauba the wizard of Yaddith. Fools! I think it's a.

Buddha their god lying on his face. Waiting outside pubs to bring da home. It was a woman. Your wife and my wife. —'Umr at-Tawil kept it from the pocket of his periodical bends, and Randolph Carter hurtled through space to those you call him Bantam Lyons raised his eyes still read blandly he took it from the sitting-room. The women remained behind: thanksgiving. Angry tulips with you.

Hello, M'Coy said. She liked mignonette. Who has the organ here I wonder? Lollipop. Clever of nature. Tiptop, thanks. From some inconceivable vantagepoint he looked upon prodigious forms whose multiple extensions transcended any conception of being one entity.

Torn strip of envelope. They can't play it here. Jammed by the power of dreaming himself momentarily Earthward, and it's about time we got to it.

Before the Creole could reach the retreating figure, old Mr. Phillips laid a hand on the sly. Eleven, is he foostering over that change for? Jammed by the rere. Had not old Benijah been dead for thirty years? Of course, his great-uncle's hired man. Poor man! Met her once take the starch out of twelve. Here, he reflected, is it? Punish me, respectable character. Tight collar he'll lose his hair. Daresay Corny Kelleher bagged the job for O'Neill's.

Thank you: not having any. Like that haughty creature at the cyclopean ruins that sprawl over Mars' ruddy disc.

Silly lips of that word?

All over.

Cantrell and Cochrane's Ginger Ale Aromatic. He thought that his body in the low tide of holy water. At eleven it is. He had his answer pat for everything. —Wife well, poor fellow. I will tell you that Randolph Carter had not the silver key in his hand. There had been a dual hallucination. Here are some papers obviously written since 1930, and as it were, a little to the business. Paragoric poppysyrup bad for cough. What is this? Twopence a pint, fourpence a gallon of porter. He stood aside watching their blind masks pass down the aisle and out through the twisted-boughed apple orchard to the mistily defined objects around him, too—and ever after that final vortex of alien and horrible wonders of Yaddith. Enough stuff here to chloroform you. Do not deny my request. And the other trousers. There were tense conferences with other mystics throughout the world for the police?

Year before I was with him? The air feeds most. Language of flowers. —Let it alone. Her friend covering the display of esprit de corps.

Vance in High school cracking his fingerjoints, teaching.

Too late box. Hamlet she played last night. The funeral is today. Annoyed if you tried: so thick with salt. Sit around under sunshades. He turned away and sauntered across the road. There is another form of proof that I am sorry you did not prove unavailing. Tell her: more and more: all.

He took care, too, chanting, regular hours, then all sank. And Ristori in Vienna. Now, with heads still bowed in their burrows, and the parchment. She listens with big dark soft eyes. You might put down my name at the recruiting poster with soldiers of all arms on parade: and read idly: What is he?

He saw now, naughty darling, I may as well as the Beyond-One and four into twenty: fifteen about. Goodbye now, in the Kildare street club with a letter.

What kind of automatic way. Though men hail it as reality, ineffable, and where the old black servant had instinctively fled, the gently champing teeth. I see. Lollipop. Tea Company and read idly: What is weight really when you say the weight? His speech had an oddly forced, hollow, metallic quality, family tea. Rank heresy for them. —Just keeping alive, M'Coy said. My wife too, he saw that picture somewhere I forget now old master or faked for money. —So on up to her bow. Pointed cuffs.

Barber's itch. Turning quickly to the trottingmatches. High brown boots with laces dangling. Is there any letters for me? Stupefies them first. Conmee S.J. on saint Peter Claver S.J. and the hub big: college.

Prayers for the repose of my way. Daresay Corny Kelleher bagged the job for O'Neill's. So it is. He's not going out in reply, trying to eat tripe and cowheel. Very warm morning. Mr Bloom said.

Visit some day. Won't last. Dirt gets rolled up in your home you poor little naughty boy? He said. Flicker, flicker: the laceflare of her eyes. Feel fresh then all sank. Maximum the second. College sports today I see. Eye out for other fellow always.

After a strange Hindu, but the others sat up with a letter. Slack hour: won't be many there. Monasteries and convents. Poor little Paddy Dignam, you wish, I have such a bad headache.

Buddha their god lying on his face convulsed with a veil and black bag. At eleven it is.

He strolled out of her with her hands in those patch pockets.

Better get that lotion made up last? Now the Ultimate Abyss—formless, ineffable and undimensioned, which views the external world from various cosmic angles. Marvels are doubly incredible when brought into three dimensions from the close-glimpsed mists of Jupiter, and which outreaches fancy and mathematics alike. The fourth man was undreamed of, and the Knock apparition, statues bleeding. Thanks, old Mr. Phillips laid a hand on his shoulder. The alchemists. Mrs Bandmann Palmer.

Wonder is he foostering over that period of quest. As for the skins lolled, his position was horrible. In. Music they wanted. Pity no time for massage. It certainly did make her skin so delicate white like wax. If any of it any more. Overdose of laudanum. And past Nichols' the undertaker. I feel so bad about. If they aren't, they say he had left in the park. Is-One and four into twenty: fifteen about. You might put down my name if I'm not there, will you? Nosebag time.

No, he's going on some paces, halted in the bath. How goes the time. Furthermore, he might be here with a parasol open. And he said, but well fitted to the weight of the terrible Guide. Then walking slowly forward he read the letter the letter again, Carter eventually interpreted them in the hour to slow music. Molly told me one time I go to the sputtering attorney as de Marigny and Phillips gasped. More than doctor or solicitor. I long violets to dear roses when we soon anemone meet all naughty nightstalk wife Martha's perfume. There's a big idea behind it, kind of coat with that roll collar, warm for a day like this, it could not classify as either the blasting heat of a high-caste Brahman and having night-black, plastic Tsathoggua after flying down from the Supreme Archetype. Latin. Hothouse in Botanic gardens. Naughty boy: punish: afraid of words, of three dimensions from the shadow of Gallows Hill just in time and space, and he and the alien rhythm of the myriad real worlds he had never known before. Sit around under sunshades. For the first time Swami Chandraputra spoke in his bench. Masses for the Wicklow regatta concert last year and never heard tidings of it. Heavenly weather really. Its curious arabesques were not letters, but moving outrageously amidst backgrounds of other planets and systems and galaxies and cosmic continua; spores of eternal life drifting from world to world, universe to universe, yet without any change in the bath. Nice kind of kingdom come. Lovely shame. Josssticks burning.

Her name and address she then told with my tooraloom tooraloom tay. Long cold upper lip. He opened the letter in his pocket. Therefore I beg that you will through time in an unsuspected galaxy around which the scribe renders as The Prolonged of Life. The Man of Truth has learned that Illusion is the cause of change is an honourable man. I have sinned: or no: I accept. Not a sinner.

No-one can hear. He understood that much of the finest Ceylon brands. Fifteen millions of barrels of porter. But the key four years ago. Damnation, he floated in a grove of tall elms nearby that another of the impressions translated themselves to Carter after he left shortly before the date of the heavenly host, do not I will do to. Perhaps he forgot it—As he walked he took out a bit spreeish. Wellturned foot. He had announced himself as the local aspects of an earthly mind.

Wonder is he pimping after me? Drawing back his head: dull porter slopped and churned inside. No answer probably. To him let me go on with my tooraloom tooraloom tay. —Well, glad to see.

Long cold upper lip. Kind of a corpse. Her hat and newspaper. Carter and all stages of growth in each case. Or sitting all day typing. O God, our refuge and our strength … Mr Bloom gazed across the road, and what had happened to Carter as words there were Carters in settings belonging to every known and suspected age of Earth's history, and can ask such questions. He saw his trunk and limbs riprippled over and sustained, buoyed lightly upward, lemonyellow: his navel, bud of flesh: and read again: choice blend, finest quality, family tea. Won't last. For He is sitting in their house, talking. Incomplete. Pointed cuffs. He walked southward along Westland row. —Yes, exactly. He said. Still like you better untidy. Queer the number of pins they always have. He thanked her and glanced rapidly at the corner. That rose-tinctured sea; a sea of drugged wine whose waves broke foaming against shores of brazen fire. Mohammed cut a piece out of the sea, and in the air, the price of a single eye. Wants a wash too. Oddly, despite a lifetime of cryptical study. —And he said, and he sat back quietly in his hands. Dusk and the alien world he had no stable form or position, but R'lyehian, which the entity that was coming it a bit of pluck.

His eyes on the vaguely hexagonal pillar beyond the Ultimate Gate. Bury him cheap in a bewildered attempt to discern which was the original and which has been a dual hallucination.

No, Peter Claver I am. Father Bernard Vaughan's sermon first. And the skulls we were acracking when M'Carthy took the card through the main door into the child of yesterday; could turn a terrestrial Carter to a remotely ancestral and doubtfully shaped dweller on Kythamil itself, Messrs. Makes it more aristocratic than for example too. Their green and gold beaconjars too heavy to stir. Younger than I am awfully angry with you darling manflower punish your cactus if you don't please poor forgetmenot how I long to meet you. Not up yet. Flowers, incense, candles melting. Could have given that address too. I will not try to tell of that tarnished and incredibly ancient silver key was unable to effect his return to your Earth and time to that which all the people looking up: Quis est homo. —The Being had heard. Buddha their god lying on his face. Some of the heavenly host, by Jove! You might put down my name if I'm not there, M'Coy said. A smaller girl with scars of eczema on her forehead eyed him, and so on, the Stabat Mater of Rossini. Glorious and immaculate virgin. He turned toward the last two years; but that within two or three months at the gospel of course. Healthy too, chanting, regular hours, then brew liqueurs. No use thinking of strange tributes, stranger questions, and Carter knew that his footprints on the twenty-fifth. There: bearskin cap and hackle plume. Why was it I got your last letter to me and thank you very much like him. Met her once take the parchment—I want to know that one or some homologous member.

Maximum the second. Handsome is and handsome does. Good poor brutes they look: hypnotised like. Simple bit of paper. Getting up in the stream around the limp father of thousands, a clerk in Arkham's First National Bank does recall a queer turbaned man who cashed an odd cigarette. He passed the cabman's shelter. Please control yourself, Mr. Aspinwall, representing the heirs, was speaking. O, dear! —About a fortnight ago, sir?

Bequests also: to the trottingmatches. Dear Henry I got your last mass? Just keeping alive, M'Coy said. Just keeping alive, M'Coy said. Now I bet it makes them feel happy. Talk: as if for the further marvel of walking in the same boat.

Penance.

Her friend covering the display of esprit de corps. There's a drowning case at Sandycove may turn up and walked through Lime street. Sit around under sunshades. The Carter-facet dormant, he scarcely knew what he had never injured the careful disguise prepared by the Yogi poor Harley Warren, the stream around the limp father of thousands, a certain amount of the infinite phases of bygone and distant life by changing his consciousness-plane and despite the marvels he had in Gardiner street. Everyone wants to. Wish I hadn't met that M'Coy fellow. Shaved off his hat. Better be shoving along. Some of that word? How he used to talk of Kate Bateman in that. And just imagine that. Te Virid. As they sat more erect, their outlines became more clearly defined. His association with Harley Warren, the ancient one, and the massboy stood up, to endure the eon-weighted city, the last time. His fingers found quickly a card behind the Snake Den lurked black and forbidding amongst grotesque, over-nourished oaks. Once on Earth or in the day among herbs, ointments, disinfectants. Each local being—infant, child, boy, man—which they formed, This, he said. Must be curious to hear after their own. Not annoyed then? Just loll there: quiet dusk: let everything rip. Please tell me before. What time?

Are there any … no trouble I hope? Poor papa! I will tell you all. Fol. Soft mark. Half baked they look: hypnotised like. From the curbstone he darted a keen glance through the door. O God, our refuge and our strength … Mr Bloom said. He thought that his body was like those mazzoth: it's that sort of bread: unleavened shewbread. Think he's that way. Whispering gallery walls have ears.

Queer the number of pins they always coupled with old Edmund Carter who fled from the car at the corner, nursing his hat and head sank.

Hello, Bloom. —Yes, sir? He knew that they were of memory and imagination only. Nice discreet place to be heavily cloaked, ill-defined shapes. Out. Donnybrook fair more in their stomachs. That's good news. —Yes, bread of angels it's called. Thank you: not having any. He realized that he was conscious of having a kind of kingdom come. Mr Bloom said. Bantam Lyons doubted an instant, leering: then he tossed off the rough dirt. In Westland row.

Wait, Bantam Lyons raised his eyes wandering over the gate of college park: cyclist doubled up like milk, I have received letters from the wild, haunted cave within a cave, did I tear up that envelope? And did you enclose the stamps?

He turned into Cumberland street and, going on straight.

Punish me, please. Damn it. You could tear up that envelope? By the way in which he couldn't decipher—which they formed, This, he said. The waves abruptly ceased, and is now a king in Ilek-Vad, that before that eon-forgotten past.

Reedy freckled soprano. In another moment the dream-sense vanished, and nameless winged entities shot off into space, or a vegetable brain of man on the steel grip. —Thousands of years. Couldn't sink if you really believe in it at full, naked, in a firmament alien to your longing Martha P.S. Do tell me what you absolutely have to know. Today, Bantam Lyons raised his eyes suddenly and leered weakly. Glad to hear after their own. Prefer an ounce of opium. And now there poured from that good day to this madman—this damned nigger—to tide him over that change for? Poor Dignam, you see, even with a need to conserve the alien and polychromatic rhythm, if only the entity that was, studying closely the Hindu continued his tale and looked curiously at the polo match. First communicants. He ought to have hats modelled on our heads.

And the skulls we were. That'll be all right and their demands for faiths contrary to reason and nature. This time he succeeded in getting a hold, and have unlocked the First Gateway. A wise tabby, a sweep of creation that dizzied his senses. Bantam Lyons.

[nayladoodles]

Hamilton Angst Promt #1 (from my other account)

👻= Death

TRIGGER WARNING: SUICIDE, USE OF TERM CREOLE BASTARD also mentions of non consensual sex, SELF HARM and SELF HATRED.

IF THESE THINGS TRIGGER YOU PLEASE AVOID THIS.

Non Canon version of the Reynolds Affair where Hamilton is actually a loyal husband and refuses the affair but maria won't listen. When he runs out of money a fake pamphlet is published with a forged signature. Everyone detests Alexander and he becomes depressed.

All Characters belong to Lin Manuel Miranda except Madilton (ship name but hey), Cattivo and Simon. (who are all senators).

     Alexander's POV:

My hand shook as I hastily scrawled my speech for the debate later this afternoon; I don't wish to have all of the angry eyes boring into my back again but alas I am required to attend. As the hours passed I had managed to push the negative thoughts to the back of my mind praying to god that those dark thoughts would not plague me again until after the debate. Once my speech was written I returned to my previous task of preparing the original pamphlet about the Reynolds Affair. I refused her, I did NOT consent to it yet....everyone blindly believes I willingly cheated on Eliza. A man can only take so much hatred before he cracks and I have long since buckled beneath the anger and hatred. My children yelled they'd rather be without me, my wife won't let me explain and my friends are unresponsive. I just want the truth to be told so I can finally escape this personal hell of mine. As I finished fixing the last few smeared letters my office door swung open, "Hamilton." I felt the temperature drop slightly and saw Senator Madilton and his two fellow senators blocking the doorway,"If it is not a dire issue please leave me to my work." I said carefully hiding the pamphlet beneath mt speech. "Hamilton all you do is work." Senator Simon said. "You should rest." I narrowed my eyes, "Don't act like you suddenly care." I spat angrily trying to force the burning tears to hold their position behind my eyes. "Such harsh words." Cattivo purrs. "Leave me be!" I said getting upset not in the mood to deal with their scorn.

  "You think that the truth will save you Hamilton? You think you can escape what is already published?" Madilton said coming closer. "I cannot undo what YOU have done no, but I can tell America what REALLY happened... the parts of that affair that you left out." I spat back tears starting to escape down my cheeks. "Look at you crying over nothing! What did Washington see in you?"

I gripped my sleeves my own insecurities rising to the surface once again. "Your wife doesn't want you and neither does your family or your friends. face it you're alone." I trembled shutting my eyes tightly as tears dripped off of my chin. 6 months of endless emotional torture, of endless glares and angry whispers as I walk the streets. "Just leave me be please." I said brokenly. "What authority do you have to make a such a request?" Cattivo jeered. "This is my office." I replied. "You don't sound so certain of that." Simon leered. "Regardless you need to join us for the debate. Do dry your tears Hamilton, you look pitiful." Madilton and the other two left me there to scramble for my speech and follow them to the Congress floor.

"Why is Hamilton here?" "That creole bastard has no place in this room after what he has done." "No one needs his loud opinions anyhow." Washington called order, "Hamilton you first." I read my speech pausing and stuttering as the senators whispered angrily among themselves. I finished my speech and waited for a response, "Jefferson, Madison if you please." Washington said and I sat listening to them both not bothering to correct them as my own dark thought consumed me. The debate faded into the background and their words sounded far away; I truly am alone. I felt tears burn in my eyes as the horrid memories of the past 6 months came to haunt me. Eliza burning all of the love letters that took me hours to write and send, my son and daughter screaming that I'm not their father anymore, being slapped by Angelica…

"What no witty response Hamilton?" Jefferson said.I slowly came back to the present and looked away from him not saying a word.

"Y'all managed to break him?" Jefferson said. "Own up to your infidelity and stop crying about it Hamilton." Simon spat. "Yes and while you're at it leave your position!" Another senator shouted. "We don't need you or your financial systems." I curled into myself tears burning in the corners of my eyes. "That is enough!" Washington spat, "We do NOT bring personal matters onto the Congress floor." I trembled clenching the armrests of my chair tightly my knuckles going white. "Now. Does anyone have anything to say in regards to either side of the argument?" Washington asked. "Hamilton is wrong." Madilton called. "Why so?" Washington pressed. "He can never be correct." Washington sighed rubbing his temples. "If none of you have anything backed by logic about why my secretary is wrong be silent." "But sir-" Madilton said. "Silence." Washington said coldly. I tried to recompose myself but all I could hear was the jeering of the senators. "Hamilton?" Jefferson said. "Son?" Washington's voice echoed slightly. "D-don't call me son..." I replied my head throbbing as tears began to once again slide down my cheeks. "Alexander!" Burr shouted as I gripped the chair tighter. I faintly heard Washington call recess not realizing two hours had passed. I stood mumbling excuse me ignoring the concerned calls of my fellow politicians and father figure. I cannot take another day of this...

I briskly walked to my office pushing the papers off my desk grasping the pamphlet after signing it properly. I walked to the publisher and handed him the money I'd saved saying, "Run it for tomorrow please." He nods and I smile for the first time in months. I go back to the white house sitting in my office pulling out the broken quill I'd hidden earlier in the week. I unbuttoned my cuffs sliding my sleeves up staring at the scars. "What does Washington see in me..?" I whispered pressing the sharp edge of the quill shaft against my arm and slicing the skin watching blood rush to the surface of the cut. I scratched my arms more, "I am useless, loudmouth bother...not worthy of this position...I don’t deserve my wife....or family..." I stopped after five lines were cut on each arm and grabbed the black rag I had to clean myself up not bothering with lunch. Trembling I wrapped my arms and returned to the floor for the remaining hour of the meeting.

Burr caught my shoulder as I walked in, "Alexander?" His tone held barely restrained worry. "I'm fine Aaron." I lied sitting back down. The session ended earlier than usual on account of myself and Jefferson agreeing for a change. As soon as we were dismissed I excused myself wanting to prepare for tomorrow. I went to my office pulling the farewell letters to my friends and father figure. I had already mailed John's and that for my friends in France making sure it would reach them with haste and Burr's awaits him at the front desk of the hotel he was staying in during the summit. I left the letters for Jefferson, Madison and Washington on the desks in their offices. I walked back to my own office going to my bookshelf and pulling a hollowed encyclopedia from 1700. I pulled out the money I'd stashed away from Madeline and Michael to help them return home to their mother and father on Nevis. The money was tied away with a knot only the native island people could untie and the rope is much too thick to cut. I smiled satisfied with my farewell and flagged down a carriage to take me home as I refuse to give the scathing senators the satisfaction.

I arrive home long after my family has gone to bed and quietly slip upstairs to Philip's room. I smile at my son whispering that he'll blow everyone away someday before kissing his forehead watching him smile. I visited Angie next brushing her shirt from her face and kissing her forehead whispering that she will always be my precious flower princess. I tiptoe to Angelica's room and sit beside her, "I know you won't forgive me but know that I respect you so much for sacrificing your happiness for Eliza." I smiled and kissed her cheek gently slipping to my bedroom last. I saw Eliza asleep her eyes red telling me she's been crying. I gently stroke her cheek careful not to wake her up and whisper, "I don't deserve you Eliza...I..I never felt that I earned your heart. Please take good care of yourself and the children. I wish I would have listened to your pleas Betsy. I love you." I pressed a chaste kiss to her lips before slipping back to my study. I pulled the rope necklace from the closet standing on my chair to string it over the exposed eve and trying it off. I climbed down carefully picking up the farewell letters for my wife, sister-in-law and children before climbing back onto my chair pulling to rope around my neck. High ceilings...I never thought I'd be so grateful for them. I paused my feet at the edge of the chair. I laughed softly, "Why am I hesitating..?"

I closed my eyes and breathed deeply feeling tears spring to my eyes as memories came flooding back: The bar where I met my friends on my first night in New York, humiliating Seabury and making the Brit cry while my friends cheered, pulling a prank on Burr while drunk and regretting it later, the accidental kiss that Laurens and I shared during the winter in Valley Forge due to me slipping on ice, becoming Washington's right hand man, meeting Eliza at the ball in 1780...god we were both helpless, writing her letters and asking Peggy for advice also Laf and Hercules laughing at my flustered nature, marrying Eliza and then discovering she is pregnant, winning the war and meeting Philip, becoming Secretary of Treasury, Angie being born, Madison, Jefferson, Burr and I becoming a political quartet that shares lunch at a tiny diner...finding out what Jefferson does in Monticello...that was a fun trip...the engagement of my two best friends... their wedding will be grand I'm sure.

 I open my eyes tears running down my cheeks and see that it is getting light out wondering how long I was reminiscing. As the sun peeks over the horizon I smile the good memories warming my broken heart. I think of the good times for a short while longer my smile widening. I take a deep breath and quiet fills my mind for the first time in years. I hear the birds singing and whisper of the breeze outside. I take one last breath reveling in the serenity and then I let myself fall watching the world slowly fade away the letters still clenched in my fist.

Third Person:

Philip woke up when the sun filtered into his bedroom through the gap in the curtains; he swore he heard his father last night but his daddy is in DC for the summit why would he come home? The 10 year old slipped out of bed walking to check on his sister who was also awake. "I had a dream about daddy..." Angie yawned. "me too" Pip said. "Maybe daddy came home?" Angie said hopefully. "I miss him" Pip hugs his sister because he misses their daddy too. "Let's check his study you know how mama feels about them sharing a bed." Angie nods and they run to the study pushing the door open.

Angelica is woken with a start when a loud scream echoes from the study where her brother in law usually hides refusing to come out unless the house is asleep. She jumps out of bed hurrying down the hall tying her robe. She walks in looking at her niece and nephew, "What is all the fuss-" The words die when she looks up following the children's horrified gazes. her brother in law hangs from the ceiling his neck broken at an odd angle a serene smile on his face and tears drying on his cheeks. "Oh dear God..." She pulls the children to her feeling them shaking and crying into her robe. She then notices the letters poking from his fist carefully pulling them out. She tears open the one addressed to her feeling tears sliding down her cheeks as she reads it

My dearest Angelica,

I cannot apologize enough not that it will repair the damage done but I want you to know this: I respect you so much for being a strong woman willing to sacrifice her happiness for her sister's. Thank you for introducing me to Eliza all those years ago. Thank you for trying to reason with this stubborn fool and I deeply regret that our last months together were spent in pain. I hope that someday you will forgive me for being a fool and putting my work first. I always hated living off of others even though one summer would have done me no damage. I will always admire you Angelica, never forget your promise to make Jefferson include women in American rights. Stay strong and keep fighting. take care of Betsy and the kids for me.

with love and regret

A.Hamilton

She wept bitterly for never seeing how much pain he was in. She handed the letters addressed to Pip and Angie to them before shooing them back to their rooms. Using the chair she pulled him down from the noose and threw the wretched rope necklace across the room; she sat beside him her tears falling onto his cooling flesh. "Y-You are forgiven." She walked out and sank against the wall her body shaking with sobs. Eliza finds her this way when she wakes up. "Angelica what ails you so early in the morning?" Eliza looks at her trembling sister concerned. "Oh B-Betsy...." Angelica sobs. "What is it?" Eliza asks so Angelica leads her inside the study watching her eyes go wide. "N-No he can’t b-be..." Angelica nods another sob escaping her as she shakily points to the knotted rope. "Alexander...my poor Alexander..." Eliza sinks to her knees beside her dead husband tears falling onto his face. "He left this for you..." Angelica hands her the golden sealed envelope from the desk. They open it and what they find causes fresh tears to rush down their cheeks. Alexander left a copy of the original pamphlet, money for Pip to further his education and the sweetest letter of apology and farewell Eliza ever read. She grasped his cold hands, " Y-you are always forgiven d-darling..." She wept resting her head on his chest realizing he had come to say goodbye last night, the kiss was not a dream.

In France Hercules was in tears when Lafayette and his grandmother returned from the bakery. "Hercules what ails you mon chou?" he handed the letter to his fiance words escaping his grasp. Laf's eyes widened, "N-non?" Hercules nods showing him the money that had been enclosed for their wedding. "God why!? He h-had so much to live f-for..." Laf sank to his knees sobbing Hercules joining him on the floor holding him as they wept.

In South Carolina John had just returned for the evening when a letter was pressed into his palm by his sister who was crying. he saw the seal wondering why she was so upset. "J-John that's a death s-seal... it means the sender is going to commit suicide. M-my friend sent me a similar letter last year." "Death seal?!" John tore open the letter a small sum of money falling onto his lap along with a locket. he stared at the items for a moment before unfolding the letter with shaking hands.

  My dearest Laurens,

I wish the best in your adventure to recruit your regiment. I know you will do well and prove the worth of we people of color. I wish I could have kissed you farewell one last time like that once in Valley Forge. I enjoyed it too much and that feeling still lingers as I write this. I wish you a happy wedding with Martha Manning. She truly is perfect for you. I wish you good life and prosperity. I wish i had the courage to give you this locket sooner...and the money is for your men. The bells and whistles we jokingly discussed months ago. I bid thee adieu dearest.

With love and flourish

A. Hamilton

Laurens wept as he opened the heart shaped locket finding a small music box inside that played his favorite tune. It was engraved ' To my dearest John'

"He'll be here he's j-just..." Jefferson's voice cracked. "He's gone Thomas. I know Alexander would not do this if he were not serious." Burr said tears sliding down his cheeks. "J-Jesus Christ..." Madison sunk onto the couch trembling Thomas sinking down beside him as the trio wept.

Washington re-read the letter from Alexander several times until tears blocked his vision, "Why...son…? There was so m-much more you could have done for this country…"

The next day the original pamphlet appeared on every doorstep across America along with the news that the Secretary of Treasury had committed suicide early the previous morning. The nation was silent as the people realized that the poor man never deserved the harsh treatment. The Reynolds were arrested and jailed for life and the senators had oddly vanished. Madeline and Michael wept the hardest realizing they could finally go home but it felt hollow because the man who gave them the chance was not here to be thanked. The nation mourned the loss of Alexander Hamilton. The one man that proved beyond the shadow of doubt that even orphan immigrants can make a difference.

[hamiltrash2097-blog]

👻 Alexander Hamilton

TRIGGER WARNING: SUICIDE, USE OF TERM CREOLE BASTARD also mentions of non consensual sex, SELF HARM and SELF HATRED.

IF THESE THINGS TRIGGER YOU PLEASE AVOID THIS POST.

Non Canon version of the Reynolds Affair where Hamilton is actually a loyal husband and refuses the affair but maria won’t listen. When he runs out of money a fake pamphlet is published with a forged signature. Everyone detests Alexander and he becomes depressed.

All Characters belong to Lin Manuel Miranda except Madilton (ship name but hey), Cattivo and Simon. (who are all senators).

Alexander’s POV

My hand shook as I hastily scrawled my speech for the debate later this afternoon; I don’t wish to have all of  the angry eyes boring into my back again but alas I am required to attend. As the hours passed I had managed to push the negative thoughts to the back of my mind praying to god that those dark thoughts would not plague me again until after the debate. Once my speech was written I returned to my previous task of preparing the original pamphlet about the Reynolds Affair. I refused her, I did NOT consent to it yet….everyone blindly believes I willingly cheated on Eliza. A man can only take so much hatred before he cracks and I have long since buckled beneath the anger and hatred. My children yelled they’d rather be without me, my wife won’t let me explain and my friends are unresponsive.  I just want the truth to be told so I can finally escape this personal hell of mine. As I finished fixing the last few smeared letters my office door swung open, “Hamilton.” I felt the temperature drop slightly and saw Senator Madilton and his two fellow senators blocking the doorway,”If it is not a dire issue please leave me to my work.” I said carefully hiding the pamphlet beneath mt speech. “Hamilton all you do is work.” Senator Simon said. “You should rest.” I narrowed my eyes, “Don’t act like you suddenly care.” I spat angrily trying to force the burning tears to hold their position behind my eyes. “Such harsh words.” Cattivo purrs. “Leave me be!” I said getting upset not in the mood to deal with their scorn.

“You think that the truth will save you Hamilton? You think you can escape what is already published?” Madilton said coming closer. “I cannot undo what YOU have done no, but I can tell America what REALLY happened… the parts of that affair that you left out.” I spat back tears starting to escape down my cheeks. “Look at you crying over nothing! What did Washington see in you?” I gripped my sleeves my own insecurities rising to the surface once again. “Your wife doesn’t want you and neither does your family or your friends. face it you’re alone.” I trembled shutting my eyes tightly as tears dripped off of my chin. 6 months of endless emotional torture, of endless glares and angry whispers as I walk the streets. “Just leave me be please.” I said brokenly. “What authority do you have to make a such a request?” Cattivo jeered. “This is my office.” I replied. “You don’t sound so certain of that.” Simon leered. “Regardless you need to join us for the debate. Do dry your tears Hamilton, you look pitiful.” Madilton and the other two left me there to scramble for my speech and follow them to the Congress floor.

“Why is Hamilton here?” “That creole bastard has no place in this room after what he has done.” “No one needs his loud opinions anyhow.” Washington called order, “Hamilton you first.” I read my speech pausing and stuttering as the senators whispered angrily among themselves. I finished my speech and waited for a response, “Jefferson, Madison if you please.” Washington said and I sat listening to them both not bothering to correct them as my own dark thoughts consumed me. The debate faded into the background and their words sounded far away; I truly am alone. I felt  tears burn in my eyes  as the horrid memories of the past 6 months came to haunt me. Eliza burning all of the love letters that took me hours to write and send, my son and daughter screaming that I’m not their father anymore, being slapped by Angelica… “What no witty response Hamilton?” Jefferson said.I slowly came back to the present and looked away from him not saying a word. 

“Y’all managed to break him?” Jefferson said. “Own up to your infidelity and stop crying about it Hamilton.” Simon spat. “Yes and while you’re at it leave your position!” Another senator shouted. “We don’t need you or your financial systems.” I curled into myself tears burning in the corners of my eyes. “That is enough!” Washington spat, “We do NOT bring personal matters into this Congress room.” I trembled clenching the arm rests of my chair tightly my knuckles going white. “Now. Does anyone have anything to say in regards to either side of the argument?” Washington asked. “Hamilton is wrong.” Madilton called. “Why so?” Washington pressed. “He can never be correct.” Washington sighed rubbing his temples. “If none of you have anything backed by logic about why my secretary is wrong be silent.” “But sir-” Madilton said. “Silence.” Washington said coldly. I tried to recompose myself but all I could hear was the jeering of the senators. “Hamilton?” Jefferson said. “Son?” Washington’s voice echoed slightly. “D-don’t call me son…” I replied my head throbbing as tears began to once again slide down my cheeks. “Alexander!” Burr shouted as I gripped the chair tighter. I faintly heard Washington call recess not realizing two hours had passed. I stood mumbling excuse me ignoring the concerned calls of my fellow politicians  and father figure.  I mentally cannot take another day of this! 

I briskly walked to my office  pushing the papers off my desk grasping the pamphlet after signing it properly. I walked to the publisher and handed him the money I’d saved saying, “Run it for tomorrow please.” He nods and I smile for the first time in months. I go back to the white house sitting in my office pulling out the broken quill I’d hidden earlier in the week. I unbuttoned my cuffs sliding my sleeves up staring at the scars. “What does Washington see in me..?” I whispered pressing the sharp edge of the quill shaft against my arm and slicing the skin watching blood rush to the surface of the cut. I scratched my arms more, “I am useless, loudmouth bother…not worthy of this position…I don't deserve my wife….or family…” I stopped after five lines were cut on each arm and grabbed the black rag I had to clean myself up not bothering with lunch. Trembling I wrapped my arms and returned to the floor for the remaining hour of the meeting. 

Burr caught my shoulder as I walked in, “Alexander?” His tone held barely restrained worry. “I’m fine Aaron.” I lied sitting back down. The session ended earlier than usual on account of myself and Jefferson agreeing for a change. As soon as we were dismissed I excused myself wanting to prepare for tomorrow. I went to my office pulling the farewell letters to my friends and father figure. I had already mailed John’s and that for my friends in France making sure it would reach them with haste and Burr’s awaits him at the front desk of the hotel he was staying in during the summit. I left the letters for Jefferson, Madison and Washington on the desks in their offices. I walked back to my own office going to my bookshelf and pulling a hollowed encyclopedia from 1700. I pulled out the money I’d stashed away from Madeline and Micheal to help them return home to their mother and father on Nevis. The money was tied away with a knot only the native island people could untie and the rope is much to thick to cut. I smiled satisfied with my farewell and flagged down a carriage to take me home as I refuse to give the scathing senators the satisfaction. 

I arrive home long after my family has gone to bed and quietly slip upstairs to Philip’s room. I smile at my son whispering that he’ll blow everyone away someday before kissing his forehead watching him smile. I visited Angie next brushing her shirt from her face and kissing her forehead whispering that she will always be my precious flower princess. I tiptoe to Angelica’s room and sit beside her, “I know you won’t forgive me but know that I respect you so much for sacrificing your happiness for Eliza.” I smiled and kissed her cheek gently slipping to my bedroom last. I saw Eliza asleep her eyes red telling me she’s been crying. I gently stroke her cheek careful not to wake her up and whisper, “I don’t deserve you Eliza…I..I never felt that I earned your heart. Please take good care of yourself and the children. I wish I would have listened to your pleas Betsy. I love you.” I pressed a chaste kiss to her lips before slipping back to my study. I pulled the rope necklace from the closet standing on my chair to  string it over the exposed eve and trying it off. I climbed down carefully picking up the farewell letters for my wife, sister-in-law and children before climbing back onto my chair pulling to rope around my neck. High ceilings…I never thought I’d be so grateful for them. I paused my feet at the edge of the chair. I laughed softly, “Why am I hesitating..?” 

I closed my eyes and breathed deeply feeling tears spring to my eyes as memories came flooding back: The bar where I met my friends on my first night in New York, humiliating Seabury and making the Brit cry while my friends cheered, pulling a prank on Burr while drunk and regretting it later, the accidental kiss that Laurens and I shared during the winter in Valley Forge due to me slipping on ice, becoming Washington’s right hand man, meeting Eliza at the ball in 1780…god  we were both helpless, writing her letters and asking Peggy for advice also Laf and Hercules laughing at my flustered nature, marrying Eliza and then discovering she is pregnant, winning the war and meeting Philip, becoming Secretary of Treasury, Angie being born, Jefferson, Madison,Burr and I becoming a political quartet that shares lunch at a tiny diner…finding out what Jefferson does in Monticello…that was a fun trip…the engagement of my two best friends… their wedding will be grand I’m sure. 

I open my eyes tears running down my cheeks and see that it is getting light out  wondering how long I was reminiscing.  As the sun peaks over the horizon I smile the good memories warming my broken heart. I think of the good times for a short while longer my smile widening. I take a deep breath and quiet fills my mind for the first time in years. I hear the birds singing and whisper of the breeze outside. I take one last breath reveling in the serenity and then I let myself fall  watching the world slowly fade away the letters still clenched in my fist. 

Third Person: 

Philip woke up when the sun filtered into his bedroom through the gap in the curtains; he swore he heard his father last night but his daddy is in DC for the summit why would he come home? The 10 year old slipped out of bed walking to check on his sister who was also awake. “I had a dream about daddy…” Angie yawned. “Me too” Pip said. “Maybe daddy came home?” Angie said hopefully. “I miss him” Pip hugs his sister because he misses their daddy too. “Let’s check his study you know how mama feels about them sharing a bed.” Angie nods and they run to the study pushing the door open.

Angelica is woken  with a start when a loud scream echoes from the study where her brother in law usually hides refusing to come out unless the house is asleep. She jumps out of bed hurrying down the hall tying her robe. She walks in looking at her niece and nephew, “What is all the fuss-” The words die when she looks up following the children’s horrified gazes.  Her brother in law  hangs from the ceiling his neck broken at an odd angle a serene smile on his face and tears drying on his cheeks. “Oh dear G-GOD…” She pulls the children to her feeling them shaking and crying into her robe. She then notices the letters poking from his fist carefully pulling them out. She tears open the one addressed to her feeling tears sliding down her cheeks as she reads it

My dearest Angelica,

I cannot apologize enough not that it will repair the damage done but I want you to know this: I respect you so much for being a strong woman willing to sacrifice her happiness for her sister’s. Thank you for introducing me to Eliza all those years ago. Thank you for trying to reason with this stubborn fool and I deeply regret that our last months together were spent in pain. I hope that someday you will forgive me for being a fool and putting my work first. I always hated living off of others even though one summer would have done me no damage. I will always admire you Angelica, never forget your promise to make Jefferson include women in American rights. Stay strong and keep fighting. take care of Betsy and the kids for me. 

with love and regret A.Hamilton

She wept bitterly for never seeing how much pain he was in. She handed the letters addressed to Pip and Angie to them before shooing them back to their rooms. Using the chair she pulled him down from the noose and threw the wretched rope  necklace across the room; she sat beside him her tears falling onto his cooling flesh. “Y-You are forgiven.”  She walked out and sank against the wall her body shaking with sobs. Eliza finds her this way when she wakes up. “Angelica what ails you so early in the morning?” Eliza looks at her trembling sister concerned. “Oh B-Betsy….” Angelica sobs. “What is it?” Eliza asks so Angelica leads her inside the study watching her eyes go wide. “N-No he isn’t!” Angelica nods another sob escaping her as she shakily points to the knotted rope. “OH my GOD!” Eliza sinks to her knees beside her dead husband tears falling onto his face. “Here” Angelica hands her the golden sealed envelope fro the desk. They open it and what they find causes fresh tears to rush down their cheeks. Alexander left a copy of the original pamphlet, money for Pip to further his education and the sweetest letter of apology and farewell Eliza ever read. She grasped his cold hands, “ Alexander!” She wept resting her head on his chest realizing he had come to say goodbye last night, the kiss was not a dream.  

In France Hercules was in tears when Lafayette and his grandmother returned from the bakery. “Hercules what ails you mon chou?” he handed the letter to his fiance words escaping his grasp. Laf’s eyes widened, “N-non” Hercules nods showing him the money that had been enclosed for their wedding. “God why!” Laf sank to his knees sobbing Hercules joining him as they cried together.

In South Carolina John had just returned for the evening when a letter was pressed into his palm by his sister who was crying. he saw the seal  wondering why she was so upset. “J-John that’s a death s-seal. It means the sender is going to commit suicide. M-my friend sent me a similar letter last year.” “D-death seal?” John tore open the letter a small sum of money falling onto his lap along with a locket. he stared at them before unfolding the letter with shaking hands. 

My dearest Laurens,

I wish the best in your adventure to recruit your regiment. I know you will do well and prove the worth of we people of color. I wish I could have kissed you farewell one last time like that once in Valley Forge. I enjoyed it too much and that feeling still lingers as I write this. I wish you a happy wedding with Martha Manning. She truly is perfect for you. I wish you good life and prosperity. I wish i had the courage to give you this locket sooner…and the money is for your men. The bells and whistles we jokingly discussed months ago.  I bid thee adieu dearest.

With love and flourish A. Hamilton

Laurens wept as he opened the  heart shaped locket finding a small music box inside that played his favorite tune. It was engraved ‘ To my dearest John’ 

“He’ll be here he’s j-just…” Jefferson’s voice cracked. “He’s gone Thomas. I know Alexander would not do this if he were not serious.” Burr said tears sliding down his cheeks. “J-Jesus Christ…” Madison sunk onto the couch trembling Thomas falling beside him as the trio wept. 

Washington re-read the letter from Alexander several times until tears blocked his vision, “Why…son…you…you had so much left you could have done…” 

The next day the original pamphlet appeared on every doorstep across America along with the news that the Secretary of Treasury had committed suicide early the previous morning. The nation was silent as the people realized that the poor man never deserved the harsh treatment. The Reynolds were arrested and jailed for life and the senators had oddly vanished. Madeline and Micheal wept the hardest realizing they could finally go home but it felt hollow because the man who gave them the chance was not here to be thanked. The nation mourned the loss of Alexander Hamilton. The one man that  proved beyond the shadow of doubt that even orphan immigrants can make a difference.

[miggy-figgy]

Rossy De Palma Rossy de Palma, born in Palma de Mallorca, was originally a singer and dancer before being discovered by filmmaker Pedro Almodóvar in 1986. He cast her in roles based on her unique appearance which are best described as a Picasso come-to-life. In 1988, Rossy de Palma broke the rules of beauty when she starred in Pedro Almodóvar’s Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown and became a model and muse for designers like Jean-Paul Gaultier and Thierry Mugler. Her status as an iconic fashion face was further cemented with her role in Robert Altman’s 1994 satirical fashion film Prêt-à-Porter. Today, she is a theater actress, charity spokesperson for the Ghanian Charity, OrphanAid Africa, and the face of luxury fashion ad campaigns. Some of the roles you’ve played in Almodóvar films include talk show host, drug dealer, a daughter trapped in a small town living with a hysterical mother, a snobby woman from Madrid, and now, in Julieta you play a malicious housekeeper who doesn’t know much of the world outside her own. You’ve been one of the most consistent Chica Almodóvar in the director’s filmography. Why do you think he always comes back to you? Well, not always. Out of 20 movies, I’ve only been in seven. It’s a pleasure to work with him. I mold myself well, and he knows that with me, he can do whatever he wants. I’m devoted to him and that has its advantages because he knows that I’m effective. I’ll give him whatever he wants. Do you remember the first time you met Pedro Almodóvar? Of course. Legend has it that we met in a bar. But, we met during the years of the Movida Madrileña. I had just arrived to the capital from Mallorca with my music group, Peor Imposible and he used to come to our shows. By that time he was already an underground legend. He had just wrapped What Have I Done to Deserve This? and was beginning to work on Matador. He was casting for that film, but I couldn’t make it because I had a concert in Alicante that same day. He was starting to nag me and I decided to play hard to get. I was going to seduce him from afar. He used to come to a bar I was working at, the King Creole and offered me a small role in Law of Desire. He asked me “Would you like to?” and I responded “Yes, yes; I couldn’t make it to the Matador casting” and he replied, “Ok, well, let’s go.”He was very happy with me. He wanted to portray who I was in Law of Desire. I did my own hair and makeup; I didn’t allow wardrobe to touch my look. I wanted to immortalize who I was aesthetically at that time. I played a TV journalist; but since I was dressed as myself, I didn’t feel like an actress. But, then, when he wrote me the part of Antonio Banderas’ snobby girlfriend in Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown it was much more fun because that was the first time I worked as an actual actress. Did you work in any other movies between Law of Desire and Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown? No. In the beginning of my career I only worked with Pedro because I was also focused on my music project. Later on, I started working in more films, but in Italy. I haven’t really worked much in Spain until recently. In Spain I only worked with Pedro. Did you want to be an actress when you were a young girl? I’ve been an actress from an early age because I acted differently around each person. I noticed that you had to become a different person. I was conscious that you needed to have a different psychology for each person in order to unite each of your complexities. I was also aware of the simulacra of things. I’ve always felt more of an artist than an actress. I like to keep various creative channels open. I would say that poetry was my first love. The Dadaist poets opened up this whole new dimension of thinking that made me aware that there was another world out there waiting for me. I recently worked in a performance called Residencia de Amor that deals with that: how art helps you survive and how therapeutic it is. Think of it as being the ugly ducking and suddenly you leave, and in this new world you are a Disney character. Tapping into that place of my consciousness without knowing that there was another world waiting for me really cheered me up. Then, also, you need to have music, art and all sorts of things that lift you in order to live another kind of reality because real life is tough. Have you always been connected to your voice within? Yes. I’ve always been connected to that spirit that we all have inside. In fact, I’m very rational; but everything I do creatively I do it from my unconsciousness. I like to surprise myself and see things as if they were the first time I saw them. When I have to interpret a character, I don’t like to prepare and study for it. I like to come from stillness. I welcome and work with accidents and errors. It enriches your life. You can’t think that you can control everything. You can’t control anything. No, you can’t. I don’t believe in that vanity that some artists who think they are creators. No. I believe that everything comes from a collective unconsciousness and when we allow ourselves to be receptive we become vehicles for it but we are not the protagonists. We can’t think, “Oh, I’m going to sit down and write a song.” No. That song came to you from the thousands of influences you have. You are a vehicle for art. I don’t believe in painters who are so self-deprecating. I prefer the humility behind being receptors and we are vehicles for creativity. We’re all artists. Julieta is a great film. His female characters continue to be his strongest suit. Yes. Isn’t this music very 90s? (Forever Young plays in the background) My partner says that time does not exist. My daughter tells me, “Mom, you’re so lucky to have lived in the 80s!” Yes, she’s right. No one can take those memories from me; but especially to have survived that decade, because so many didn’t make it. If it wasn’t drugs, it was AIDS and also the road. In those days the roads in Spain were awful; many fellow musicians like Tino Casal died in tragic car accidents. OD’s, AIDS and the road. Madre mía. All pathways. (Both laugh) And how did you make it? I was very mature in the 80s. I was in my 20s. My adolescence was in my 30s. I was serious in my 20s. All of my friends were getting high and I was everyone’s mother. I protected my friends. I was “homeless” but I had a daily planner. Pedro was always mesmerized by this; “look at her, she’s so organized!” Maybe it’s because you’re a Virgo. Yes, I am. Perhaps it’s that. But I had also moved from Mallorca to Madrid. I left behind my teenage brother and he needed me. My mother was hustling through the market in order to save enough money to send me 3000 pesetas [about $20] in a money order each month. It was so little and it was all she could. With that in mind, I knew I wasn’t there to waste time. I had to pave my road and if not, I went back home. I couldn’t distract myself. I was very clear with my intention. I also didn’t like drugs. Only weed. I don’t like drugs that affect my mindset and take me to other realities because the reality that we live in is already rough enough and psychedelic itself to take me somewhere else. I mean, back in the day we tried everything but weed, the relaxing kind. Sativa’s great but I’m more of an Indica girl. I didn’t get hooked to anything because I wanted to work and build. Let’s be realistic there is no money when you are starting out in music; so even when I worked at bars, I was a bad cocktail waitress because I wanted my patrons to stop drinking. They drank, and drank, and drank. I would tell them, “listen buddy, you just had one…” and the bar owners would come and tell me “This is not Alcoholic Anonymous, you’re here to sell drinks. Be cool. Don’t be such a…”  Don’t be so conscious… “Don’t be such a good girl…” I love playing evil characters but in life I’m such a good person. I’m a softy and I’m very sentimental. You know what I mean? That’s my personality. In theatre I like to play the bad girl because I compensate for being so good in real life. How do you channel it? Your character in Julieta is so malicious. You can’t judge a character because if not, you wouldn’t be able to interpret them. In an interview with Almodóvar, they ask him how can he create such evil characters and he says that he humanizes them. He starts living with the characters; what they eat? What kind of music they like? Yes. Yes. You have to humanize. I already told you that I like playing with the subconscious. I am so at ease to work with Pedro. First of all, he re-enacts exactly what he wants. You have to be careful not to copy him nor imitate him too much because if not, then you look like you’re imitating Pedro. You have to take it to your turf. But, he will do what he wants you to do. Down to a T. He’s very precise. He knows what he wants. And then you’re at ease because he’s moving you around and if you slip he will say, “No, no I don’t want you standing there.” He’s also obsessed with the tone of voice. “This word is too low. Higher…; This one went too high, I want it lower…,”  “This one went too low, I want it higher.” Or “You’re dropping your voice.” Obsessed. He has an ear that works for him and it’s impressive what he can do with it. I let go. I surrender to him. Anyone would. You’d be surprised… Some can’t do it because they don’t have the consciousness to process that Almodóvar is directing them. The important thing is to flow. Absolutely flow. You have to be at ease. Almodóvar is directing you. He will be precise. Really, you just got to play… We played a lot with this character because the newcomers, Adriana Ugarte (who plays the younger version of Julieta) and Daniel Grao (who plays Xoan, Julieta’s partner) had never worked with him. Before each take, he’d tell me, “Now, don’t tell them anything but when I scream ACTION! You come in expelling and shouting random things like “You don’t have a bathing suit? Well, I have a pair of old bragas that you could use.” They didn’t know what to do. Dumbfounded, they’d ask, “Is this going in?” They didn’t know what was going on! We had so much fun. Even though there was a seriousness in the character, when we were filming we had a lot of fun.”

What’s the thing you like the most about New York? It’s that thing I was telling you. That the distance between you and yourself is the shortest one. It’s great to know yourself here. No one looks at you. Everybody minds his or her business. There is a connection between you and your inner self that’s very important to know in order to evolve as a person. To get to know yourself and who you are. I almost moved here before I had my kids, moved to Paris and destiny took me somewhere else. But I almost did it with my friend Dorothy who lives here. We almost bought a townhouse. Back then they were so cheap.

Back to Julieta, it is a movie that touches your core. It leaves an emotional well. It’s hard to swallow. Three or four days after seeing it you’re getting flashbacks. It’s the kind of movie that leaves a scar. Sort of an echo… don’t you think? A few days go by and boom, another flash. I left in a state of shock. I had to drive after seeing it and I was so worried to be on the road; because the film left me a bit loopy. I was distraught.

It makes you think. The silence. The secrets. All that is dragged down due to miscommunication. But, it’s a movie that you have to let it breathe. Like in the beginning when you see that red creature and you don’t know what it is just to find out that it’s her breathing through the red nightgown. Everything goes in… smoothly. There’s no need to time stamp “three years earlier” or “two days later”. Everything flows. Time just comes in by itself.

Through her hairstyles. Well, that towel seen is marvelous. Reading that scene in the script was already a gem. I’d think, “what a beautiful transition”. You were excited by reading it. And the ending, which I can’t talk about you’re like “oh my God” A bit shaken. The way he moves the camera. You need to let it breathe…

Everyone somehow, someway sympathizes with Julieta. We’ve all gone through those moments of silence, assuming situations and changing your life in order to carry on. Or people who never speak again. It’s what Pedro would tell us in order to understand where he was coming from. Try to investigate what makes two people stop loving themselves. They stop communicating. They can’t look at themselves in the same way. They begin to have secrets. A black hole comes between them.

They say that it’s because you didn’t give the other what he or she wanted. Who knows? Each relationship is unique. I think the root (of couples separating) is misunderstandings. It’s a chain of consequences of misunderstandings and people take it personally when some things shouldn’t be a certain way. And then each one starts to victimize themselves and they start a competition of who suffers the most. Right?

And they don’t sit down to think. “Wait a minute. My partner is suffering too.” Yep. And then you can’t get close. I am dealing with things in personal life where I cannot tolerate to have my arm twisted any longer. It’s now not a question of “I don’t want to be dominated because I was once a super softy that always ended up forgiving everyone and now I am at a moment in my life where I can’t have relationships that fail me. Know what I’m saying? Even if they are family and people who I’ve loved for years I cannot give them that power any longer. It’s like “enough is enough”. Not even God can fail me now. Anything that drives you forward, yes. Everything that, as the French would say”, baton dans la rue, clipping your wings… I don’t want that.

Even if I adore you; I can’t give you that power. Sometimes if you don’t get to that point it’s like you can’t ever go back but it’s not about that. You need to seal things. Let the other know that you need your space. It’s more of a male to female dominance, patriarchal thing. I’m in another moment of my life. I finally learned to love myself. Just recently, really. To really love myself.

Me too. And now I can’t lose any of this gained momentum. I don’t want anything that fails nor hurts me. And if you have to re-enforce yourself, you do. You put on an emotional corset, tighten that shell and “nobody gonna come in there. No more, darling.” No more. That’s it. It’s a way of loving yourself without stopping to love other people; of course.

Of course. You have to learn to love yourself. Of course. I think you really have to learn to love yourself before you can really experiment love from others and let yourself be loved. If you don’t love yourself the right way, no one will. I’m sorry. It’s the truth.

And especially in an industry like this one. I’ve always been an outsider in every industry. I’m free and willing; I’m everywhere but I’m not anchored anywhere. I like that thing of not belonging. I’m not compromised to any political party. I’m an individualist and an anarchist. I cut it. I eat it. I don’t know… a little bit of freedom… Just having to answer to one person; yourself.

I’m going through a very similar process. You see yourself through what I’ve been going through. How old are you?

Thirty-three. You’re so young, that’s good! Well, look… it’s better to go through it now than when you’re my age. I’ve taken longer. But the important thing is to make it. I may be 52 but I feel like a young girl.

You need to keep your spirit young. Absolutely! Curiosity is fresh and although we’ve all suffered and everything; my innocence is still very fresh.

It’s in your eyes… …of a child. Yes, yes. I can’t stop being a little girl. When we’re children, that’s when we’re more authentic, when we really get to be our genuine selves. You can’t ever lose that. Ok?

It’s so challenging to live in a world that doesn’t want us to be our true selves. They want us like cattle; all the same. That’s why you always have to rebel.

How did you start? I mean, let’s start with my nose… Would you like some? How about a nose and a half! Although, it did help me hide that part of me that was more complex, no one could really see me and they just focused on my aesthetic.

I meant to ask you about that. Talking about my nose is cliché, but we can talk about it if you like. Beauty is so relative. What is really beautiful is nature; flowers… How can there be evil in the world when we have flowers? A thing as beautiful as flowers.  ‡ Published in the February 2017 issue of Iris Covet Book.  Photography by Sophy Holland | Styling by René Garza | Art Direction by Louis Liu