o Phoebos, even the pure-voiced swan on the wing sings of you, leaping upon the bank beside the whirling river Peneios; and of you the sweet-singing bard with clear-sounding phorminx always sings first and last. Hail to you then, lord: may I please you with my song. •¶ Excerpt • Homeric Hymn 21 to Apollo
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TASTE IS A FORM OF CENSORSHIP: MARK STEWART IN CONVERSATION WITH BANDCAMP DAILY
Punk, technology, the situationists & future possibilities. Read all HERE. Photo by Tyrone Lebon