“Our ears transport us back to the medieval world”

For me, music is not the warm blanket, the quiet cows in the meadow. Nor is it some arcane sophistry, braying from the ivory tower. It is the mythic sword of flames. It is the mournful tolling bell, the impenetrable pitch of the black, blasted abyss. It is the soaring cold peaks and the mystical elven vale. It is lightning and sulphur, elation and sorrow, dark emerald and dungeon stone.

Carol of Doomsday: A Domusday We Schull Ysee

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White Iris on Thy Bier