A photo I thought long since lost, it's a picture of yours truly at the grave of my literary hero, Howard Philip Lovecraft at Swan Point Cemetery in Providence, Rhode Island.
Is the red flare in the upper right corner an artifact of the camera, or did the spirit of the Old Gentleman of Providence come out to say hello to a fan? Double click on the picture to expand it to mind-numbing horror that is not dead, but can eternal lie.
ADDENDUM:
Of course, little did I know that when you really enlarge the picture, behind me are interstellar clouds "outside the ordered universe where that amorphous blight of nethermost confusion which blasphemes and bubbles at the center of all infinity—the boundless daemon sultan Azathoth, whose name no lips dare speak aloud, and who gnaws hungrily in inconceivable, unlighted chambers beyond time and space amidst the muffled, maddening beating of vile drums and the thin monotonous whine of accursed flutes." (1):
Again, click on the graphic twice to see sanity-reducing horror!
(1) If you don't recognize this quote you don't know your Lovecraft!
