#lapilli

[oldfilmsflicker]

new-to-me #518 - Lapilli

[captainfantasticalright]

Good Omens and ancient Rome board games:

I remember looking up ancient board games and came across so many versions of tic-tac-toe within the area of Rome. These are some of the names they had back then!

[anthropologist-on-the-loose]

Watching clips from documentaries on Pompeii is wild now. Like, I can recognize exactly where they’re filming! And I'm not just a casual observer anymore, I’ve dug there! They’ll be talking about the volcanic material that fell on the city and the only thing I can think about when they show the stratigraphy on screen is “that stuff is an absolute bitch to dig through”!! 

It feels like I’m the casual acquaintance of a celebrity. “Yeah, I’m not in her inner circle or anything, but we’ve been at a few of the same parties and had some great conversations together.”

[zhaozi]

gento with lapillus

[chaotic-tired-cat]

Requested Pyroclastic Speedrun Additional Scene: Ao and Shisui reunion

This is. Quite possibly the weirdest character dynamic I've written in a while. Cosmic haters.

Shisui winks at him. Their hands are still knit together around the paper tag, forming a final hand sign Ao recognizes-

No!

Ao sets off the tag as Shisui's headhunter jutsu drops them both into the earth, hand in unlovable hand.

[coolancientstuff]

Newly discovered fresco from the Roman town of Pompeii, Italy

This fresco came to light in the last few days, in the house of the Painters at work, in the Regio IX, in Pompeii. After the removal of volcanic material and lapilli, the small solid fragments of lava, by archaeologists, the fresco showed an excellent state of preservation.

The wall painting depicts a child perhaps three or four years old, with a large hooded cloak, referred to in antiquity as the cucullus, surrounded by bunches of grapes, some of which he holds with his right hand, and others with the cloth held with the left hand. You can also see some yellow pomegranates among the bunches of grapes scattered on the ground.

On the bottom right, his little dog is looking at the observer. This dog looks like a Pomeranian, a breed attested in Italy since the Bronze Age. The Romans referred to them as canis melitensis, a dog initially present in ancient ports, and his task was to keep coastal warehouses and ships free from mice and rats. Behind the boy stands a quadrangular building, from which a sort of turret protrudes. We do not know if this child represents a real person, perhaps a deceased son of the family that owned the house, or a representation of a Dionysian character, where the cucullatus child embodies a small follower of Dionysus.

[thegianpieromennitipolis]

SENSI DELL'ARTE - di Gianpiero Menniti

L'ILLUSIONE DELL'ONFALO

Lo stile è davvero uno dei segni tangibili dell'arte, di ogni espressione, sia essa un testo pittorico o plastico, un'architettura oppure un'opera di scrittura.

In un luogo, qualcosa accade.

Si staglia, s'imprime nello sguardo e suscita un irrefrenabile moto d'animo.

È il primo passo.

Prima lentamente e poi con impeto, i luoghi si moltiplicano: non per mera imitazione ma per slancio creativo.

Così, quando nel 1874, a Parigi, nello studio del fotografo Nadar sul Boulevard des Capucines si tenne la prima mostra "Impressionista", il fuoco di quello stile già diffondeva i suoi lapilli nell'emisfero sud del globo, in Australia, a Melbourne.

Lì si formò la scuola detta di "Heidelberg" - dal nome di una località a est, nella periferia rurale della città - e sempre a Melbourne si tenne, nel 1889, la prima mostra passata alla storia con questo titolo: "9 by 5 Impression Exhibition".

Tra i 183 dipinti, almeno 40 erano di Arthur Streeton, non meno di 46 di Charles Conder, assieme ai contributi minori di Frederick McCubbin e Charles Douglas Richardson.

Ma la parte più cospicua spettò, con 63 opere, a Tom Roberts (1856 - 1931) artista di origine britannica.

E britannica sembra essere l'influenza "impressionista" - Turner, Whistler - che colse la vena figurativa di quella che venne annoverata come la prima scuola artistica veracemente australiana.

Ma il ceppo originario s'era già formato nella seconda metà degli anni '80, il "Box Hill artists' camp", con il gruppo di artisti "en plein air" che in seguito costituirono l'ossatura della "Heidelberg School".

Certamente, Roberts fu il più intenso nel lasciarsi cogliere dallo slancio di misurarsi con la cattura dell'istante nella naturalezza del primo impatto.

E se è vero che le sue tele echeggiano Whistler pur concedendosi inizialmente all'impronta vaga di Constable, le stesse mostrano un notevole coraggio nell'esplorare i fondamenti della visione sensibile, della costruzione im-mediata dell'immagine pittorica.

Così, le tracce irrequiete dell'arte migrarono lasciando l'Europa, annebbiata dalla "Belle Époque", nella tragica illusione di essere l'omphalòs (ὀμφαλός), l'ombelico del mondo.

- "Going home", 1889, National Gallery of Australia; "Treno serale per Hawthorn", 1889, Art Gallery of New South Wales; "Andante", 1889, Art Gallery of South Australia.

[rock-swag-tournament]

Rock Swag Tournament Round 1: Igneous Rocks Part 11

Tuff is an igneous rock...or maybe a sedimentary rock based on who you ask! It is made of lithified volcanic ash (lithification is the process by which particles of stuff become rock, and volcanic ash is sand grain-sized pieces of ejected volcanic matter).

Tuff generally also has pieces of all kinds of other stuff, as well. As long as stuff that is 2 mm or smaller makes up 75% of the rock, it will be considered tuff. Anything less than 75% volcanic ash, and the rock is described as "tuffaceous."

Fun fact: the Moai on Rapa Nui (Easter Island) are made of tuff! Also, according to one submitter, "this is one of the few volcanic rocks that can be made into a really lovely paint. Specifically a vaguely purplish gray" COOL!

Ignimbrite could be considered a type of tuff, but it is more specifically a rock formed from a pyroclastic flow deposit. Pyroclastic flows are one of the deadliest geological phenomena as they are burning hot clouds of gas and debris that race down the sides of volcanoes during some eruptions!

Ignimbrites can have more and larger pieces of volcanic debris, but they could also simply be tuffs that have welded due to the high heat from an eruption. Ignimbrites also may contain fiamme, which are "flame-shaped" lapilli (volcanic tephra or debris between 2 and 64 mm big) that have been flattened or sheared during deposition.

More on pyroclastic flows under the cut, because they are fascinating in that they are dangerous and I must talk about them.

Pyroclastic flows are blisteringly hot and terrifyingly fast clouds of volcanic gas and assorted tephra: volcanic material that can include ash (particles less than 2 mm), lapilli (between 2 and 64 mm), and blocks and bombs (greater than 64 mm).

They flow (violently rocket) down the side of volcanoes after explosive eruptions. You generally don't have to worry about pyroclastic flows on Kīlauea any time soon because those eruptions are mostly lava flows (which you can usually outrun). However, some of the most famous volcanic eruptions from recorded human history--Mount St. Helens in 1980, Krakatoa in 1883, and Vesuvius in 79 CE--were accompanied by pyroclastic flows.

Pyroclastic flows can be triggered a number of ways. Some examples are lava domes collapsing and causing an avalanche of sorts, part of the volcano exploding or collapsing in one direction (like Mount St. Helens), or the plume of debris and gas that is shot vertically into the air during an eruption collapsing back down to the surface (like Mount Vesuvius).

There is no outrunning a pyroclastic flow. They flow down the side of volcanoes and across the surrounding landscape at typical speeds upwards of 80 km/h (50 mph), but they can reach speeds of several hundred km/h. These clouds of debris are also several hundred degrees Celsius. You do not survive a pyroclastic flow!

If you would like to see what one of these looks like, I have two videos. Please be warned that because pyroclastic flows are so deadly, one of these two videos discusses deaths related to a specific eruption.

This video is from a documentary (I do not know the name of the film) and the beginning shows the genesis of the pyroclastic flow: the lava dome collapses and causes an avalanche. The pyroclastic flow then moves along a stream valley and close to a nearby town. CW: This video mentions the number of deaths directly related to this eruption and pyroclastic flow. There is footage of a vehicle and a person fleeing the pyroclastic flow, but the town they are in is are far enough away that the pyroclastic flow does not reach their location, and they survive. The potentially triggering part of the video begins at 0:24.

This video shows a pyroclastic flow going into the ocean. CW: As far as I can see, there are no people or animals in the path of the pyroclastic flow in this video and so there are presumably no deaths associated with this eruption.

[sashthesloth]

More Artfights from the middle-end July

1. Tephra Lapilli ( @/oag-draws); Starr ( @/kentuckythefried)

2. Sean Runevale & Andrew Everson ( @/duckstuff2008); Halcyon ( @insyndiar)

[meggsssart]

So I started doing Christmas cards for my D&D group last year, and although I don't play with the same group any more, I've decided to make it a tradition!

This year's Christmas card is based on awkward 80s family photos! The first is a more traditional awkward photo, and the second is a more festive version. Featuring Eve, the half-elf barbarian who is the (aggressive) mum of the group; Gurbo the unhinged gnome bard who can only say his own name like a pokemon, and my lovely polite half-elf paladin boy Elden ♥️

Oh, and my DM in the background, because DMs don't get enough love! Thank u always for the super fun sessions Dylan ❤️

This is last year's, with my old group - featuring my tiefling warlock Reva (left), the human warlock Jayden (centre), the tiefling druid Lapilli (right) and the goliath barbarian Big (back).

I think I need to get into the business of making D&D Christmas jumpers!

[florencetypemaniacs]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MARCEL!~Short Story

MARCELLUS'S BACKSTORY SPOILERS BELOW!!!

The sun glistened on the Sarno River, where ships floated aimlessly while others were anchored at port. People were all about enjoying the sunny morning, not even minding sailors ordering their men to get the nets drawn so they could get to work selling their fresh scores of fish down at the market.

 Further north, crisp hills rolled from a large mountain to the crowded city to the west. The streets were bustling as people shopped, visited relatives, and even children drew on the walls of a big arch with speckles of paint that their guardians let them buy when the merchants came into town only a few days ago.

Although people were walking down one street in the center of the city, heads turned as shouts bounced off the stone walls covered in floral motifs.

"Thief!" 

"Stop him, you fools!"

A man, or more accurately, a teen dressed in a cloak, ran down the busy street, bumping into people as he ran from city guards.

"Sorry!" The teen said this as he jumped through a fountain, splashing water on an older woman who was resting.

“Es stercus!” A man yelled, helping the woman up.

"I said sorry!" The teen yelled over his shoulder; his feet burned from the hot cobblestone marked by the sun.

Need to lose the old dogs.

Looking to his right, he smiled like a lemer and ran towards the narrow alleyway, knowing full well that the guards would not be able to follow him with the bulk of armor they torture themselves with.

  Marcel held his breath as the guards ran past the alleyway, not noticing the hunched figure of the sixteen-year-old boy.

  Letting out a chuckle, he held the bag full of his precious cargo closer to his body, making sure none of it was smashed.

  Looking up at the sun, he knew he should be getting back and quickly climbed the wall of the building next to him with the help of a few boxes and overgrown vines.

  Balancing on the roof, he leapt from house to house, gracefully and practically dancing in the warm sun.

  It only took a few minutes, and knowing the city like the back of his hand made it easier to navigate even while he was on rooftops.

  Finally arriving at his destination, he easily jumped on a balcony and swung to a tree branch hanging by until his feet hit the ground.

  "At last....home." Marcel said, looking at the old torn-down villa built with tan bricks and red pine wooden decorations that hung in the front to ward off evil spirits.

  The closer he got, the more he could hear the sounds of laughter and crying from children. Through short, wide windows, if he narrowed his eyes and focused, he could see heads of hair run past.

 Marcel let out a smirk and opened the front door.

 "Mars!" A small girl squealed and threw herself into his arms, which spined her around.

"Oh, Cassia! It's been forever since I saw you!"

  "You saw me this morning, Mars!" Cassia giggled and hung onto the taller boy.

Marcel grinned. "Did I? Well, you've grown since then!"

  Cassia blushed and stood on her tiptoes. "You really think so?"

  "Well, of course."

  "Is that Marcellus?! Oh, I have a word to pick with you."

  From down the hallway a young woman appeared with black hair all the way down to the floor in a braid and the most stunning blue eyes that seemed to distract people from her dark bags that were under them.

  "Decima! It's good to see you."

"I don't want to hear it, Marcellus." Decima spoke with narrowed eyes, then turned to Cassia.

  "Little Shurb, how about you go play outside with the twins?"

  Cassia wrinkled her small button nose. "But they always want to play Terni lapilli."

  Decima frowned. "What's wrong with Terni lapilli?"

  Cassia crossed her arms. "Nothing; they just always lose the marbles, and it takes us till sundown to find them." She pouted. 

  Marcel got down on his knees and booped her nose. "How about this? You play with your brothers, and I'll get you new marbles tomorrow."

  Cassia's eyes widened. "Shiny ones?" 

Marcel nodded, the small girl's smile being infectious. "They will be as shiny as Sol's chariot."

  Cassia nodded her little head. "Deal!" The small girl ran out of the arched, cracked doorway.

Decima sighed as she rubbed at a stain on her lavender stola.

"Marcellus, what have you done this time?"

Marcel lips pressed together, knowing full well a lecture was coming.

"Please, on Astraeus's stars, do not start pestering me, Decima. 

   "Oh, shall I not, Marcellus? If the sweat on your forehead and the dirt on your feet are any indication, you have been participating in Mercury's sinful tricks." 

   "Don't pretend that his sinful tricks do not keep us from drowning." 

Decima glared. "They may keep our heads above the tide, but for how much longer? Once the guards catch you, that's it!" She slammed her hand down on the table, and Marcel was surprised her copper wedding band on her finger didn't crack. 

  Marcel's brows furrowed. "Don't you see I am doing what I must? With Octavian gone—" Decima's eyes closed as if in pain at the mention of the name. "—we are all at risk even with our union. If we don't manage to keep up with our debt, then our ruse would have been for nothing, not to mention what Rufus would do." 

  Decima looked away, and Marcel took the older girl by the shoulders, making her look him in the eye. "You are my truest friend... I am doing what is right for all of us. For the children. For you as well." 

  Marcel and Decima stared into each other's eyes for what felt like minutes. They knew everything about the other—what stalked their dreams, what pushed them to keep going—but they never judged, for they completely trusted the other.

  Decima nodded at her friend. "May Juno be with you." 

  Marcel smiled, a little bitterly. "No gods are with me."

  Before Decima could utter a sound, Marcel walked down the hall. "Cerdis is in the children's room, I'm guessing."

  Decima called back, wiping her hands on the front of her stola. "Yes, you know he has been waiting for you." 

Happiness surged through him, suppressing the fear that was slowly creeping into his mind.

Marcel smiled and opened the door to the largest room in the very small, cracked domus where they lay their heads each night.

Candles lit the room where no windows let their light in. Two dark wooden cribs were in the corner, while there was a small bed on the other side of the room, which kept two growing children resting their heads, although there was barely any room for one child, much less two.

  Although right then there was only one child, whose hair was raven and nappy, even under the covers, anyone could see the boy was small—too small. Most considered the boy to be cursed by Asclepius and wanted him put out of his misery, although Marcel knew better.

Marcel sat on the bed, making sure not to startle the sleeping figure.

  Gently, Marcel uncovered the face of the small boy to reveal sunken eyes and paste-like skin that seemed to be coated with sweat; however, there was a small smile that played on the sleeping boy's lips.

  The older boy spoke softly. "Cerdis, it is time to wake; Sol's chariot has already passed."

  Eyes slowly opened, blinking before the little boy grinned from ear to ear; his brightness could put a smile on anyone's face.

  "Mars!" A raspy voice came from Cerdis as he sat up, wrapping his small arms around the older boy.

  Marcel softly kissed the boy on the top of the head. "Ah! Finally, you wake from your slumber." He held the raven-haired boy close. "Are you feeling blessed this morning by the gods?"

Cerdis nodded his head, looking confident. "Yes, because it is my day of birth!"

 Marcel smiled. "Yes, it's not everyday that someone survives five winters."

  Cerdis frowned. "I am still not as tall as Cassia."

  The older boy laughed. "No, but maybe with the help of Juno, you will catch up." He said it, hoping that the bitterness would be kept out of his tone.

Cerdis gave him a toothy grin. "You really think so? I won't only be older than her, but taller as well!"

Ah yes, Cassia does hold her height over Cerdis very often, although it is probably due to the fact that Cerdis was the only one who questioned her when picking games. Hmm. I wonder what Cassia will do when Cerdis comes into manhood. I'm sure Cassia will find something else to hang over the poor boy's head.

Marcel patted Cerdis's head. "Well...I have you a present."

  Cerdis shook with excitement and, with almost lightning speed, reached for Marcel's satchel but with speed was snatched back. "Now, now, Cerdis, I have a few other things in here."

  Cerdis crinkled his nose, although the comment didn't make his smile waver. "I cannot wait any longer! Please Mars! What have you brought me?"

  Without a second thought, Marcel opened the bag, minding the trinkets that were valuable, however small enough that their owners would not even notice they were gone until it was too late.

  Cerdis's eyes widened as Marcel pulled something oval-shaped and quite small into his palm and wrapped it in cloth.

The raven-haired boy smelled the sweet aroma, and his mouth watered. "Is that-?" 

  Marcel uncovered the item to reveal the room-temperature sweet bun, smashed a little on one side, which made the honey sweetness drip over until the cloth was covered with the sticky substance.

"It was no trouble." Marcel once again kissed Cerdis head.

  "A maritozzi!" Cerbis, not minding the stick, grabbed the sweet treat with full hands and took a bite. Marcel tried not to cringe at the mess on the boy's face.

  But it was quite easy, with the happiness shining through. "Mmm." 

 "I see you are quite enjoying my present."

Cerdis showed his dimples through his smile, licking his fingers. "Thank you, Mars!"

Marcel smiled in a moment of weakness, asking the gods to bless his little brother with many more winters.

[ancientartarcheology]

Detail of wall painting still partially submerged by lapilli from the new ongoing excavations of the Regio V in #Pompeii.

photo by Director Massimo Osanna

[elipsi]

shoutout to this environmental newsletter about the mediterranean, the do good work!

[instabileatrofia]

Lapilli

I.S.A.

-

Do not remove the captions pls.

[bishop-percival]

The Return

[[I wrote a lil thing. It's important to the story! Read it if you care! :^)) I put it under a readmore bc it's long.]]

It was a quiet morning for the Church of Glorn, otherwise known as the COG, also known as Glornch. The Most Reverend Bishop Percival was in his personal vestry and office, leaned back in his red leather chair, feet propped up on his ornate cherry wood desk. He was flicking a flame from his fingers up into the air and catching it back in his palm like a bored schoolboy. 

There was a knock at the door. In classic Glornist fashion, the priest Reverend Mike entered into the office without giving the bishop a chance to say ‘come on in’ or ‘go away.’ Mike stepped up to the desk and bowed 

“Greetings, Your Excellency. I’ve returned from my mission in Lapilli.” He popped back up grinning. “And it was quite successful! You should have seen their temples. Extremely ornate, carved out of cliffs of igneous rock, dedicated to a myriad of flame deities-”

Percival interrupted. “That’s great, Two-eyes. Whaddya bring back.” 

“A- Oh, yes…” Mike reached up into his cassock and dug around before excitedly pulling out a beautifully intricate statuette of some god, carved out of a bright orange stone. He also pulled out a necklace meticulously woven with small golden chains that connected to a giant red gemstone at the center. “I of course brought back more, but here are the real standouts! This is a statuette of Kri’tilar, the head honcho goddess of the Lapilli folk, said to have-”

Percival interrupted again, pointing at the necklace. “Uh huh. Tell me about that there pendant. Is it magical?”

Mike’s eye twitched slightly. 

“Uh… Yes, it is. Get this! It imbues the wearer with high-leveled heat resistance! This will be great for future missions. No more relying on Mir’s potions!”

The bishop reached his hand out toward the priest. Assuming he just wanted a closer look at the necklace, Mike plopped it into Percy’s hand. Percy stuffed it in his sleeve.  

“You’re right! Good find, Two-eyes.” He leaned back in his chair. “Well, thanks for the update. Run along now. There’s a lot of work ‘round here you oughta be catching up on.”

Mike stood in place and gripped his fists.

 “...Excuse me? Your Excellency, that necklace is going in the crypt, where the rest of our relics belong. Y’know, for the clergy to use as needed. It’s not yours to keep.” 

The bishop set his feet down on the ground, leaned forward, and shot Mike a deadly glare. “This one is mine. Got it?” 

He was then reminded of something, and pulled open a drawer to grab two pieces of paper before handing them to the priest. “Oh yeah, by the way- Take care of this, will ya?”

Mike snatched the papers and speedily skimmed the one that looked like a printed-off email. Paying rent to Commander Peepers? Injuring a lieutenant? Huh? He then looked at the other, a billing statement. His eye widened so much it could have fallen off his body.

“NEARLY FOUR-HUNDRED FUCKING GRAND?” Mike gripped the papers so hard they tore at the sides. He looked back up to meet the bishop’s eye. “YOUR EXCELLENCY??”

Percival waved his hand dismissively. “You can blame Shep for that. We’ll just use the huge donation that the new deacon gave us. Glory? Gloria?” He again leaned back in his chair and sighed. “Also heard Shep was in medbay for whatever reason. Another job of yours will be to pay them a visit. Remind them what happens when you run your mouth.”

At this point, the priest’s eye was red and veiny with pure anger. He exploded.

“YOU’RE one to talk, Percival! You had me play Mr. Damage Control on your dumb blog when you started openly threatening people on it!” 

Percy didn’t respond, and instead gazed nonchalantly at the wall. Mike slapped his hands onto the desk and leaned forward. 

“What has gotten into you? It’s like you’ve forgotten how to run this damned church! We don’t OPENLY threaten people! We do that shit behind the scenes! We used to be respected! People other than clergy actually attended sermons! Now no one trusts us and our standing on this ship is falling apart!” 

The bishop had enough of this attitude and the annoying yapping that came with it. He stood up and snapped back at the priest, getting in his face. 

“THEN GO DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT.” 

Mike didn’t back down.

“YOU do something about it! You’re the bishop for Glorn’s sake! You hold the most power, in more ways than one! Why do you even bother collecting up demonic energy if you don’t use any of it to our benefit? If anything, it's like you're deliberately running us to the ground, killing off our deacons and shit!"

Percival narrowed his eyelid and straightened up.

“...How do you know about that?” 

Ah man. Mike really let that secret slip out, huh? His immediate idea was to rat out Teddy. He opened his mouth to speak but… He got to thinking. Ratting out Teddy would still put him in a suspicious position, because then how did Mike get that information from Teddy? He also didn’t want to scrap Teddy just yet. Besides… Mike was in a risky mood. He decided to change up his story, knowing it was going to get him into deep trouble.

“I… I faked passing out at our last summoning ritual. I snuck some potion. I saw and heard everything, Percival.”

The bishop grew livid. He lunged across his desk and grabbed a hold of Mike’s neck, throttling him.

“YOU IGNORAMUS! It was YOU who Xryxy sensed! It was YOU who embarrassed me in front of It! It was YOU who cheated me out of a better deal!”

He then let go, dropping Mike to the floor. Percival got down from his desk and walked around it to stand over the priest. 

“Since you’re sooo curious about my power, how about I give you a personal demonstration?” 

He went to reach down, but stopped in his tracks when something in the doorway caught his attention. Mike noticed the hesitation and looked at the doorway as well. 

The priestess Reverend Miriam, Mike’s sister, stood staring back at the two. 

She spoke sharply. “What’s going on here?”

Percy put on a smile. “Oh! Eyelash! I was just about to beat up your brother. Wanna join in?”

Miriam stepped into the room. Mike scowled. Of course she wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to antagonize her brother. Except… much to Mike’s surprise, she didn’t start to kick him. Instead, she grabbed Percival’s arm and plunged her hand into his sleeve, snatching out the magical necklace while he stood frozen with surprise. 

“Thought I sensed something new here. I’m taking this to reorganize the crypt. Don’t touch it or any other relic until I finish re-cataloging everything.” 

She bent down to grab the back of Mike’s collar and began to drag him backwards out of the room while he remarked some ‘ows!’ and ‘heys!’.

“I’m also taking this. You can beat him up later. I need him to submit a mission report.”

The bishop simply watched as the two made their way out of his vestry, closing the door behind them. He growled and clenched his fists. 

“Damned Eyelash” he mumbled before going back to his chair to resume mindlessly flicking a flame into the air. 

—

The priest and priestess made their way to the crypt (of course, Mike had freed himself from Miriam’s grip to walk.)

After a moment of silence, Mike spoke up.

“How much of that little convo did you hear?”

Miriam curtly replied.

“All.”

“... Do you care about any of it? Of Percy building up magical energy for who knows what, of the COG’s place on the Skullship being threatened?”

“No.”

Mike sighed. 

“Thought so.” 

He doubted she meant that, though. He knew if she truly didn’t care, she would have left him in that bishop’s office to die. Mike silently began brainstorming his next moves the rest of the way to the crypt.

[diarioimmaginario]

Come in un quadro di Monet,

Ti ho vista vestita di rosa,

Ti ho vista diventare fiamma e poi luce,

Ti ho vista volare ed esplodere,

Lapilli arcobaleno e aurore boreali,

e

Ho visto la mia pelle diventare nera e bruciare,

Ho visto il buio degli inferi infettare il mio corpo

Ho visto la vita fuggire ed inciampare

e