Luyện nghe bài hát Ghosts of Angkor Wat

[17 1893]
Such musings as have been occupying my mind of late unfortunately seem
to suggest a possible link to the fate of my learned and colleague
Doctor Ignatius Stone. That brilliant researcher was last seen in
of all his faculties whilst on an to the ruins of the Sumerian
city of Ur, an which preceded my own work there by some eighteen
months. Stone was a archaeologist who also dabbled, perhaps unwisely,
in certain areas of the occult, particularly the various
grotesqueries worshipped as Cthonic deities by the ancient denizens of Ur.
days before he ventured into the ziggurats of that foreboding,
mystery-haunted site, he had dispatched a letter to me claiming he was
on the of a truly staggering arcane discovery at Ur which would
simultaneously the cyclical nature of human civilisation as well as
render redundant all previous theories on the origin of man.
Whatever misfortune befell him within aeons-old tombs robbed him
irrevocably of his sanity, for when his attendants managed to prise
the stone door of the vast central catacomb, which had, I'm told,
inexplicably shut fast his three-man torch-bearing party, they found
two of the regularly stalwart men had seemingly expired of fright,
while Stone was slumped against the north wall, staring vacantly the
gloom, gibbering about visitations by so terrible that the very
of their existence would sunder a man's tenuous hold on the
of sanity.
When I later him at the sanatorium in England, I found him to be a
shell of the man I once knew, a man beset by imagined terrors and
ever wary of the immemorial horrors which he lurked at the periphery
of perceptions. Indeed, I was glad I had taken a journal into
which I could transcribe his rants, for he had a great deal to
tell me The Dreamer In The Catacombs Of Ur: