Phantom Chandliers

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Jingles of a midnight knell,

Summons a silent scream, strike hell.

Furtive weavers in the dark,

Stitch a mare-haired voodo, hark!

Have you seen the Pale Horse since?

Eyes of a blue, a whirlpool’s tinge!

Round and around the carousel we go,

Heave-ho, heave-ho!

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Pale Horse is one of Agatha Christie’s detective novels where an alleged group of mediums who call themselves “Pale Horse” uses black magic or remote-control to kill for their customers, people who assign them to kill.

This picture was taken at the zoo -.- yeah I know, of all places. And only yesterday when I was browsing my older pictures, I discovered this picture which I liked a lot. So errie and ominous, as if the three are silent conspirators of the evil.

They appeared to be dancing! A ritual.

In case I’m not clear, its an imagined ritual of course, with the focus gradually drawn deeper and deeper down, into the whirlpool center, without a strand of struggle.

I love flowers, they have a soul of their own.

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