“He stepped very close to me, and his eyes were terrible as he said, ‘Hear this, man from Tuscany, and remember it, because it is the truth: God was dead when He created the world’”
Buried in an isolated castle on the outskirts of a city in the Albanian mountains, the wildy ugly painter of blasphemies, Samalio Pardulus, executes works too monstrous to bear viewing, and espouses a philosophy that posits a grotesque world that reflects the ravings of a dead, grotesque god. Told through the horrif...
Рейтинг LiveLib
0
0 оценок
Эту книгу пока никто не оценил, ваша оценка может стать первой
“He stepped very close to me, and his eyes were terrible as he said, ‘Hear this, man from Tuscany, and remember it, because it is the truth: God was dead when He created the world’”
Buried in an isolated castle on the outskirts of a city in the Albanian mountains, the wildy ugly painter of blasphemies, Samalio Pardulus, executes works too monstrous to bear viewing, and espouses a philosophy that posits a grotesque world that reflects the ravings of a dead, grotesque god. Told through the horrif...
Рейтинг LiveLib
0
0 оценок
Эту книгу пока никто не оценил, ваша оценка может стать первой
Ваша оценка
