Luyện nghe bài hát Ghosts of Angkor Wat

[17 October:
Such grim musings as have been occupying my mind of late seem
to suggest a possible link to the fate of my learned and colleague
Doctor Stone. That brilliant researcher was last seen in command
of all his faculties whilst on an to the ruins of the Sumerian
city of Ur, an undertaking preceded my own work there by some eighteen
months. Stone was a gifted archaeologist who also dabbled, unwisely,
in certain areas of the occult, involving the various
grotesqueries once worshipped as Cthonic deities by the denizens of Ur.
Mere days before he into the ziggurats of that foreboding,
mystery-haunted site, he had dispatched a to me claiming that he was
on the verge of a truly staggering arcane discovery at Ur which
simultaneously prove the nature of human civilisation as well as
immediately render redundant all previous theories on the of man.
Whatever misfortune befell him those aeons-old tombs robbed him
irrevocably of his sanity, for his attendants finally managed to prise
open the stone door of the central catacomb, which had, I'm told,
inexplicably shut fast behind his three-man torch-bearing party, found
two of the stalwart men had seemingly expired of pure fright,
while Stone was slumped against the north wall, vacantly into the
gloom, gibbering about visitations by beings so that the very
contemplation of their existence would sunder a man's tenuous on the
of sanity.
When I later visited him at the 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 horrors which he claimed lurked at the periphery
of humanity's perceptions. Indeed, I was glad I had taken a journal
which I transcribe his delusional rants, for he had a great deal to
tell me about The In The Catacombs Of Ur: