Editorial
The scarlet stockings. We all know the ones. Red like blood, sewn to invoke the deepest desire. Soaked in violant, they say. One can only agree, so hard it is to forget them.
Imagine your fingers running down their length. The silk so soft, the skin beneath so warm, the flesh so soft and tender. Heavy smell of perfume, intoxicating, playing with your senses, making your head spin. Your lips touching, red on red, your face flush with desire.
They are not to be removed; do you yearn to take them off? What are they worth without the wearer? Just one look is enough to send your imagination wild.
Poets have cried for them, zailors have drowned for them, the Masters may deny any attraction but still they must know.
Wrapped around the torso, a warm breath on your cheek. Sweet dreams, London.
Art of London
Letters from the Surface: Part IX
A Weeping Scar
By Sir Wensleydale of Hardwick
One night, I was up late, writing a short story. I was about to enter a plagued sleep, when…
SLASH
I ran in the general direction of the noise. Mr Netae’s home. They were dead. Dead of slicing. Four scars, in the shape of Correspondence.
I poured salt on the corpse. Perhaps that would burn it.
But it did not burn. Not a candle.
I wondered what was next.
News of Art, Art of News
Lavish lascivious lifestyle liberates London’s leading
It is no surprise that London’s elite love to indulge, in matters artistic, culinary, sexual, even vicious. In a recent turn of events, a certain society has been gaining following from the high echelons of the purebred Society. The Cult of Dionysus, as they are known, has been a society of artists and those of lesser social standing. Not few of us here at the Gazette have been to these gatherings, and we can attest to the parties being rather, well, unfit for the Ministry.
In the past week, new members have been showing up to the gatherings. What do Mr. ______ and Mrs. _____ have in common? Where do the newlyweds ________ venture every evening? How many Londoners involve themselves with polyamory?
Dear London, how we wish we could talk more of this… Better yet, we shall invite you all! Be not afraid to show up, the directions are encoded in this very edition of the Gazette. You know what to look for, London, and we look forward to you.
Ask Mother Goose
Dear Mother Goose,
Where to find you?
LuFul
Dear LuFul,
The zee eternal.
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