Vincent van Gogh On the Outskirts of Paris

Vincent van Gogh On the Outskirts of ParisVincent van Gogh Ladies of ArlesSalvador Dali The Ecumenical CouncilSalvador Dali The Cellist Ricardo PichotSalvador Dali My Wife,Nude
make itself heard for a long time rang out in the silence.
Supposing there was somewhere where reality was a little thinner than usual? And supposing you did a fog around the picture throwing box, blurring its outline.
He snatched at the spinning handle. It resisted for a moment, and then broke. He gently pushed Bezam off his chair, picked it up and hit the throwing box with it. The chair exploded into splinters. He opened the cage at the back and took out the salamanders, and still the film danced on the distant screen.
The building shook again.something there that weakened reality even more. Books wouldn’t do it. Even ordinary theatre wouldn’t do it, because in your heart you knew it was just people in funny clothes on a stage. But Holy Wood went straight from the eye into the brain. In your heart you thought it was real. The clicks would do it.That was what was under Holy Wood Hill. The people of the old city had used the hole in reality for entertainment. And then the Things had found them.And now people were doing it again. It was like learning to juggle lighted torches in a firework factory. And the Things had been waiting . . .But why was it still happening? He’d stopped Ginger.The film clicked on. There seemed to be