Tumbls of the Macabre

Mirror created from actuating black and white fur pom poms.

Jerome Podwil

I met a traveler from an antique land Who said: “Two vast and trunkless legs of stone Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand, Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown, And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command, Tell that its sculptor well those passions read Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things, The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed: And on the pedestal these words appear: ‘My name is Ozymandias, king of kings: Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!’ Nothing beside remains. Round the decay Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare The lone and level sands stretch far away

This is some spooky shit, like what if thousands of years ago when the Romans and Greeks were in power and there was all the talk about the great gods of Olympus and stuff and there was a goddess who was doing powerful things and something happened and she was punished by being forced to the bottom of this trench and those are her hands and she’s like a frozen statue just waiting for something to happen again in modern times ohhhg my god