I just recently started reading a compilation of H.P. Lovecraft's short stories. I found this book by chance at a book store that used to be an old church. We pull up, park, and start walking as I'm getting more and more excited with each step closer to the building, very much like a child running to a candy shop. Once we walk in, realization sets in as to what a behemoth of a place this bookstore really is. The lady behind the front desk looks at me, smiles, and tells me there is more upstairs! I walk up the stairs and I find three or four more rooms dedicated to shelves of books, and books, and more books. I felt drawn to a certain area where there were fewer books than in the rest of the particular room I was in. Behold, the H.P. Lovecraft book my brother has had for years! Of course, I bought the precious thing. I haven't been able to put it down since. H.P. Lovecraft so utterly stimulates my mind with strange and brilliant patterns of words. His concepts and beliefs so similarly explain that which I struggle to wrap words around. It's as if a fraction of his mind had once lived within my own. Although I believe this to be very unlikely, it fuels my intrigue. Those of you who are into the darker arts should check him out, for I am sure you would find Lovecraft to be as brilliant as I do.
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