A chronicle of movement aimed at synchronizing thoughts and keyboards with said movement.



The British Museum offers the most misleading term in all of England, aside from perhaps "free drinks" and "club without cave people inside of it." The museum, in fact, serves as the new host to the collective pillaging of every British explorer or archaeologist or man with waxed mustache and breaks for brandy. Civilizations from the Old Kingdom in Egypt to the Mesopotamians have gladly donated their corpus of art to the men who poured into and tore through their lands after these works had time to settle under layers of dust. The original pediment of the Parthenon sits, refurbished and whitened. Mummies remain, dozing in coffins before they haunt some tourists. And the Rosetta Stone's here.

The Rosetta Stone.

Not that it's bad this way, really. They're preserved, probably better than they could be, anywhere. Except for America.

This Druid, drawn by a guy who did a lot of research on Stonehenge, tells a squirrel how much he'd like to eat him.

Above: Corpse of dead man. 2,000 years old. Still has skin, internal organs, hatred of Lower Egypt.

Below: Skeleton of a very small man. He may have been killed because he was short.


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