seen from United States
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seen from Netherlands
seen from United States
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seen from United States
seen from Brazil
seen from United States
seen from Argentina
seen from Bulgaria
seen from Netherlands
seen from United States
seen from United States
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God's last act of creation was to place the tree of knowledge at the centre of the Garden of Eden. Adam was told not to touch it. The angels were placed there to protect it. Question: So if the tree of knowledge was not meant for men and angels, who was it made for? Answer: The trees.
The Erstwhile, B. Catling
Go with courage, slyness, and passion, and survive to become unique again.
The Erstwhile, B. Catling
You will return whence you came. You have the strength of two now. You should have helped me to go, but you chose to keep me for this. Very well, I shall tell you that what you do next will cast you from your God forever and split you asunder. If you had just left, none of this would have happened. Now it is too late. I have sorrow for you.
The Erstwhile, B. Catling
For a colonial city to exist and thrive thousands of miles from its homeland and on a completely different continent takes two essential things: an unquestionable sense of rightness, being demonstrated through its constant display of blind superiority, and an unlimited supply of a raw material of great value.
The Erstwhile, B. Catling
He was a different man walking in different streets in a world that he no longer understood or knew, in a universe that was watching humanity with a baleful smirk.
The Erstwhile, B. Catling
The figure was there again on the other side of the fountain. It shimmered blue like the core of the transmuting shadows. As if the very essence of their colour had been drained to form this miasma. It sharpened to give the impression of a figure dressed in a long coat or gown of blue, its shape and features fragmented by the brilliant giggling water.
The Erstwhile, B. Catling
This is where the man-beast crawls, its once-virtuous body turned inside out, made raw and skinless, growing vines and sinews backwards through the flesh, stiff primordial feathers pluming in its lungs, thorns and rust knotted to barbed wire in its loins. Guilt and fear have gnawed the fingertips away to let the claws hook out into talons. Sharpened by digging a home in a shallow grave. It is seen on all fours, naked, and worse across the broken ground on sharp knees that are red raw from chiseling the earth to gain some purchase. Prowling inside a trench blinded by stark glares of explosions. Another bellowing flash sculpts the rippling muscle of its back and arms and the thick prophet's hair that has become soured by warfare into itching dreadlocks, mud-filled like the beard of dribble and tangled ginger grit.
The Erstwhile, B. Catling
Title: The Erstwhile | Author: Brian Catling | Publisher: Vintage (2017)
