The musings of a history buff with definite fangirl tendencies.
But to put that another way, the ground was so solidly packed with the interlocked skeletons of 17th-century victims of the Great Plague that the Tube’s 19th-century excavation teams couldn’t even hack their way through them all. The Tube thus had to swerve to the side along a subterranean detour in order to avoid this huge congested knot of skulls, ribs, legs, and arms tangled in the soil—an artificial geology made of people, caught in the throat of greater London.
i read shit like this and think what could my imagination possibly have to add
like how do i write something about london that’s weirder than london already is?
One of the more helpful and insightful things I’ve seen about depression/suicide in the last couple of days.
My dad is 63 and fighting depression and I am sad about Robin Williams because he was great but also for selfish reasons because I want my dad to stick around as long as he possibly can. And there’s no guarantee and there’s only so much I can do. And it’s terrifying.
I wish that everyone could get at least a little more time.