O dark dark dark. They all go into the dark,
The vacant interstellar spaces, the vacant into the vacant,
The captains, merchant bankers, eminent men of letters,
The generous patrons of art, the statesmen and the rulers,
Distinguished civil servants, chairmen of many committees,
Industrial lords and petty contractors, all go into the dark,
And dark the Sun and Moon, and the Almanch de Gotha
And the Stock Exchange Gazette, the Directory of Directors,
And cold the sense and lost the motive of action.
And we all go with them, into the silent funeral,
Nobody’s funeral, for there is no one to bury.
- T. S. Eliot, Four Quartets
The cold sank into Jan’s bones and would not let go.
Even as far south as Rotterdam, the marsh was frozen in December. The ice was thick, but not as thick as it would be in February, at the height of winter. Out on deck, Rainer Heinrik Jøberg squinted into the darkness, huddled into his hurricane coat. Jan watched his friend. The muted cough of the skimmer’s oxygen-starved engine was swallowed in the mist. They puttered along, inching up the coast away from Amsterdam.
It was the kind of town a respectable Republican gentleman like Jan Collier should have avoided. It had been less than a decade since Amsterdam had been incorporated into the Republic, and the legacy of poverty was still evident inside its dome. But for all its flaws, Amsterdam was on the rise. Prospectors and refugees from all corners of the empire crowded its streets, eager to make their fortunes in the desalinization industry flourishing outside the settlement. Outfitters and inns and watering holes sprang up in the manner of an ancient boom town, stretching its inadequate resources. Just that summer, the Republican senate had voted to replace Amsterdam’s plastic dome with a plateen barrier, enfranchising it as a fully-fledged town of the empire.
It had started a fight. Every day, Jan was more and more frightened by his position in the middle of it.Read more
When I count, there are only you and I together
But when I look ahead up the white road
There is always another one walking beside you
Gliding wrapt in a brown mantle, hooded
I do not know whether a man or a woman
—But who is that on the other side of you?
goodshipophelia asked: i want to ROLL AROUND in your fashion posts rn
YAY! I wish I could find more photos of PoC in the fashions I am looking for, as well as more photos of men dressed in traditionally feminine vintage fashions. If anyone has any suggestions, please let me know, as I’m sure I don’t know all the best places to look.