Month: February 2020

A hotel for lovers where the ghosts of romance once rented rooms by the hour. Betrayal and broken passions haunt the place despite its conversion to a more ‰Û÷respectable‰Ûª bed and breakfast affair. Wraiths summoned in union, hunt alone for a way back into the arms of the past. https://t.co/BqakGq7BwQ

A hotel for lovers where the ghosts of romance once rented rooms by the hour. Betrayal and broken passions haunt the place despite its conversion to a more ‘respectable’ bed and breakfast affair. Wraiths summoned in union, hunt alone for a way back into the arms of the past. pic.twitter.com/BqakGq7BwQ

— Hookland (@HooklandGuide) March 1, 2020

@ladylugosi I am quite the fan of Edith Piaf.

I am quite the fan of Edith Piaf.

— Hookland (@HooklandGuide) March 1, 2020

@ladylugosi When I lived in Paris for a few months I did the same and made a map of visiting those places of the city where she had added stories to it.

When I lived in Paris for a few months I did the same and made a map of visiting those places of the city where she had added stories to it.

— Hookland (@HooklandGuide) March 1, 2020

The recent past is as much of a lie as ancient history. Recall has agenda, trusts in an accuracy that it doesn‰Ûªt own. Yesterday joins the territory of ghosts the moment the calendar page is turned. Closes yesterday‰Ûªs haunt just as effectively as long old spirits. – #CLNolan

The recent past is as much of a lie as ancient history. Recall has agenda, trusts in an accuracy that it doesn’t own. Yesterday joins the territory of ghosts the moment the calendar page is turned. Closes yesterday’s haunt just as effectively as long old spirits. – #CLNolan

— Hookland (@HooklandGuide) March 1, 2020

@Duncan_Gates @Dave_Hardy09 The smell of failed metaphysics that spoil a place are not of long-faded incense, but rather the rancid, clinging aroma of sour milk.

The smell of failed metaphysics that spoil a place are not of long-faded incense, but rather the rancid, clinging aroma of sour milk.

— Hookland (@HooklandGuide) March 1, 2020

@SaveLeaMarshes @Walthamsteve @WaterworksLDN I think all the night is likely to hold is participation in a faux, PR fig-leafing exercise and that ultimately, to protect ecological fracturing we will need to focus on the licensing authorities and the artists booked to perform.

I think all the night is likely to hold is participation in a faux, PR fig-leafing exercise and that ultimately, to protect ecological fracturing we will need to focus on the licensing authorities and the artists booked to perform.

— Hookland (@HooklandGuide) March 1, 2020

Those houses that overlooked the boneyard were happy enough places, except at certain times of the year such as St. Mark’s Eve – when the seeing of the dead troubled anyone with a view of the graves. – #CLNolan, ‘Oiling The Gate’, 1910 https://t.co/C2aqOYfNNE

Those houses that overlooked the boneyard were happy enough places, except at certain times of the year such as St. Mark's Eve – when the seeing of the dead troubled anyone with a view of the graves. – #CLNolan, 'Oiling The Gate', 1910 pic.twitter.com/C2aqOYfNNE

— Hookland (@HooklandGuide) March 1, 2020

The smell of failed metaphysics that spoil a place is not one of long-faded incense, but rather the rancid, clinging aroma of sour milk. – C. Josiffe, psychical investigator and author, ‰Û÷Observations on Hauntings‰Ûª, 1938

The smell of failed metaphysics that spoil a place is not one of long-faded incense, but rather the rancid, clinging aroma of sour milk. – C. Josiffe, psychical investigator and author, ‘Observations on Hauntings’, 1938

— Hookland (@HooklandGuide) March 1, 2020

Those rock islands, daily swallowed by tide, where the salt-witches once worked to call storms and commune with the drowned dead, have ill-reputations even in the now. It is the brave or foolish child that will climb one. – #CLNolan, 1934 https://t.co/yIj9YBZXFW

Those rock islands, daily swallowed by tide, where the salt-witches once worked to call storms and commune with the drowned dead, have ill-reputations even in the now. It is the brave or foolish child that will climb one. – #CLNolan, 1934 pic.twitter.com/yIj9YBZXFW

— Hookland (@HooklandGuide) March 1, 2020

When the Children of The Hum stopped walking the humlines, stopped walking the electric ley of the land, many of them went to live on boats on the canal. However, the pylons were never far away. https://t.co/2cmcBBKe3F

When the Children of The Hum stopped walking the humlines, stopped walking the electric ley of the land, many of them went to live on boats on the canal. However, the pylons were never far away. pic.twitter.com/2cmcBBKe3F

— Hookland (@HooklandGuide) March 1, 2020