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Welcome to the Hall of Broken Mirrors

I am named Pwl. Say Poowulh, and sing us soft.
A chalked circle is a little infra-dignatum though.
To mine. Though I am not totally indifferent to yours.
Draw one if you insist. They are so quaintly pretty.
But do not expect me to abide within or without.


It matters not. I was once called Legion.
I have been a Bird. I flew from an Abyss.
I became the Abyss. I have been as Dust.
Now call me Raven, dark to Mourne.


Darktime Scribings ~ Nocturnal Poetry ~ Strange Whimsy
Dedicated to the Gentle Madman, and to the Lovely Madwoman in everyone.
Let us bring darkness and confusion to the lighted halls of reason.


Find the darkness you hold inside. Before it finds you.
WARNING
It is not always Gentle or Lovely.


Private Preview Only. This is not really a Site ~ it is just my Playground. Perhaps the denizens of this place might want to play with you too. Don't you want to play here then?

So why you come here? Same reasons as me, I suppose:
I can't sleep at night. Not in the dark. It frightens me. I am haunted by so many Creatures of the Abyss. They are so lovely; strange and dark and fey. And they are not out to get me: why do they run away when I call to them? This is what frightens me.

My special thanks to those who do not run away; to those who have shared a little candle in a big dark place. And shared their darkness too. You know who you are. No thing so fair: a friend, found and free.

If you found this place it is because:
  • Some sad creature gave you the url
  • You are a very devious entity
  • You are just plain UNLUCKY
Do you hear the creaking of rusted hinges?
Ah, yes, I forgot to tell you about the one-way virtual-trapdoor.

++++++++
<< the door creaks twice... >>
we dance through gateways
servers sing at our command
a modem mumbles in the night


April Wan ~ 1997 ©
++++++++

Never mind that now. This way through the Looking-Glass.
Be careful of the jagged edges please. And bring no lights to the darkened hall.

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? ::: CACKLE ::: WITH ::: ME ::: ?
Mind-to-Mind FTP would be best, but it doesn't always function.
Too many wee beasties in the wetware object-code.
If you wish an abyss to gaze also into you, try

MAIL TO:pwl@ptech.demon.co.uk




You may safely skip all the rest of this page: you need not expect it to make sense.

You are the lost mind of a searching spirit number...
[000,000,000,000,000]
...of this timeslice.

Yes that's right – please accept that you are my only not-guest of here and now. I'm a not-person, and I'm merely your reflection too.... every one of us is as unreal as the blossoms on a dying metaphor tree. If you really need the belief-support-system of positive integer numbers, please visit http://www.littlejason.com/count.html – a really pointlessly cool and utterly meaningless numbers-game.

Alternatively, you might consider another implication: you don't exist either, so how can you induce my counter to move? The ones on other sites might only increment to fool you into believing in your own improbably complex self-myth. Apart from you, who cares? Blah.

Okay clever unperson, you might be visiting with a friend, but do you believe that they exist either? I don't doubt the genuineness of friendship, by the way; few things are deeper or more beautiful than the love that can exist between one abyss and another. I should know.

Please don't list this nonplace, or add links from other elsewheres unless they don't exist either. But if you still insist on rummaging about in the cobwebbed attics, please tell me what you find there. I'd really like to know. I think I misplaced one of my spare minds somewhere, and I'd quite like it back. Are you really so different? Look into your own glass darkly: perhaps it is only the cracks that differ.


RITES ::: OF ::: COPY
Website Copyright ©1997-2001 Pwl Peppiatt. All rights reserved.
Photography, illustration, general verbiage by Pwl ~ Wordsmith to Lady of All Skies.
Except for the many Words I stole from Thee. And all those where shewn otherwise. With my thanks to them.

DENIALS ::: ON ::: MY ::: GRAVE
I ask ye not to believe too much in anything here writ. I have no answers for your pain.
I am as a tale that is told: any hack has a word with ways.

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...So don't bother scrolling down: you'll only fall off the edge of reality.

TEMPORARY SITE: TEST ONLY Site under construction ~ may never be finished, may flyaway by whim, or simply not function.





































....Told yer so! [sad expression] CAER! [opens black and ragged wings]
I go to my roostplace now.