A skillful builder of cracks and pits for History and over rationalized theorizing, Theo Michael from Greece crafts a world of forbidden idols and holy irreverence.

Ah yes the holy grotto! Out of the hole come: the fire, wooden wheels trampling over grasslands, the wailing, we do not foresee an end to that wailing. And whats this? The hermit himself greets us! How auspicious that he should display his scales, sharp emeralds, for all to see. Pay attention to the precious bleeding, there, above his Duvernoy’s gland, the falling drops exhibit the well studied mask shape. Would that we could approach, but for now we wait for him to feed: the harp’s music lets us know that digestion fluids are now being funneled from the clouds, which means it is only matter of time before a neoplatonist is caught in the hermits web, dragged screaming back into the cave.


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