Archive for The High Priestess

The Ode

Posted in Visual Art, Writing with tags , , , , , , on 15/11/2016 by GeoSolus


A magician and his mistress

A mistress and her maids

Turn mystery to knowledge

So that nature may be saved

The Mark Of Cult

Posted in Video, Visual Art with tags , , on 14/11/2016 by GeoSolus


Fair Flames (Basic)

Posted in Music, Visual Art with tags , , , on 09/03/2016 by GeoSolus

Fair Flames Basic

Behind Every Man

Posted in Visual Art with tags , , on 22/06/2015 by GeoSolus

Behind Every Man


Posted in Visual Art with tags , , on 01/09/2014 by GeoSolus

ZJ Basic Template

Birds Of A Feather

Posted in Writing with tags , , , on 03/02/2014 by GeoSolus

Just another morning in front of the mirror. A buzz of blades applied to the skull, a running tap and a razor to the cheek. A 5 minute shower lays ahead before getting dressed and fixing up some breakfast for the old woman in the living room. Black cargo pants sit neatly folded on the toilet seat lid with a pair of assault boots positioned on the floor in front of them. A black hooded top hangs at the back of the bathroom door with a large white cross on the breast and a white vest draped over one of the shoulders.
The first hour of every day dedicated to getting ready for the other 17 hours awake. Hours spent between the local library, a small shop with internet access, the local supermarket and looking after the old woman in the living room. A mechanical procedure rather than a way of life. A cycle destined to continue until death puts the inevitable full stop to it and yet during this time there was one winter’s night that was different.
Those northern winters make cold hard air and veil most of the day in darkness. So our man in black wrapped a blood red scarf around his neck, covered his shaved head with a black beanie and pulled his hood up before venturing out.
He had broken routine and was heading to the library hours later than he usually did. He walked in to town and headed down the main street instead of cutting through the side streets which shortened the distance. As he approached an old church that had somehow imposed itself on the pagan culture of the area he noticed an Asian woman walking towards him. She was dressed in grey from head to toe in a very office like manner. She was slender and attractive. Her hair loosely pulled back to frame a serious face that hadn’t noticed the cold. They stared at each other with a touch off nonchalance as a single white downy feather floated down from the church belfry and in to the path of their inevitable collision. Their steady walks lost pace as they turned slightly to avoid the feather and then, without a second look, they walked past each other.