The foulest stench is in the air; the funk of 40,000 years and grizzly ghouls from every tomb are closing in to seal your doom.
I am hee that liueth, and was dead : and behold, I am aliue foꝛ euermoꝛe,Amen,and haue the keyes of hell and of death.
Walter Pater’s essay on Style is honeycombed with involutions and preciosity.
The babbling stream, people spreading out rush mats to sit on, snacking on kimbap.
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DiQt（ディクト）
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