Month: February 2018

@timofnewbury Proper.

Proper.

— Hookland (@HooklandGuide) December 2, 2018

Stories breed at the edge of common and woods. It‰Ûªs territory where spirits are thick as dead bramble. #CLNolan https://t.co/HxYrjCBrfT

Stories breed at the edge of common and woods. It’s territory where spirits are thick as dead bramble. #CLNolan pic.twitter.com/HxYrjCBrfT

— Hookland (@HooklandGuide) December 2, 2018

@artistNWT For me with a sleep disorder it is not a blurred border, but an empty, lonely space. When it cannot be filled with night walks due to ill-health, it pushes down on the soul.

For me with a sleep disorder it is not a blurred border, but an empty, lonely space. When it cannot be filled with night walks due to ill-health, it pushes down on the soul.

— Hookland (@HooklandGuide) December 2, 2018

@TrailpikeRake @artistNWT When I can walk the hollow hours, they are brilliant, but when imprisoned by health, they are harsh. https://t.co/leA6VZIrFF

When I can walk the hollow hours, they are brilliant, but when imprisoned by health, they are harsh. pic.twitter.com/leA6VZIrFF

— Hookland (@HooklandGuide) December 2, 2018

@djp1974 https://t.co/rAE7dffylA

@djp1974 pic.twitter.com/rAE7dffylA

— Hookland (@HooklandGuide) December 2, 2018

Bone business. Mr. Bones. Lord O‰Ûª Bones. Whatever you want to call him, he‰Ûªs the one in charge of the graveyard who you have grease if you want to talk to the dead.

Bone business. Mr. Bones. Lord O’ Bones. Whatever you want to call him, he’s the one in charge of the graveyard who you have grease if you want to talk to the dead.

— Hookland (@HooklandGuide) November 1, 2018

@maryfrancesness Swoon.

Swoon.

— Hookland (@HooklandGuide) November 1, 2018

@waywardstrategy Have you paid your dues? In coin, rum and smoke. I think not.

Have you paid your dues? In coin, rum and smoke. I think not.

— Hookland (@HooklandGuide) November 1, 2018

@prairielaura Oh to be a collector of that coin.

Oh to be a collector of that coin.

— Hookland (@HooklandGuide) November 1, 2018

The soul goes to heaven, but the shadow of a man or woman walks for nine days after death. Longer, if they are never buried right. ‰ÛÒ Old Cunning Wren, 1890

The soul goes to heaven, but the shadow of a man or woman walks for nine days after death. Longer, if they are never buried right. – Old Cunning Wren, 1890

— Hookland (@HooklandGuide) November 1, 2018