Luyện nghe bài hát Ghosts of Angkor Wat

[17 1893]
Such grim as have been occupying my mind of late unfortunately seem
to suggest a link to the fate of my learned friend and colleague
Doctor Ignatius Stone. That brilliant was last seen in command
of all his faculties whilst on an to the ruins of the Sumerian
city of Ur, an undertaking which preceded my own work by some eighteen
months. was a gifted archaeologist who also dabbled, perhaps unwisely,
in certain areas of the occult, particularly the various
grotesqueries once worshipped as deities by the ancient denizens of Ur.
Mere days before he ventured into the ziggurats of foreboding,
mystery-haunted site, he had dispatched a letter to me claiming he was
on the verge of a truly staggering discovery at Ur which would
simultaneously prove the cyclical nature of human civilisation as as
immediately render all previous theories on the origin of man.
misfortune befell him within those aeons-old tombs robbed him
irrevocably of his sanity, for when his attendants finally managed to
open the stone door of the central catacomb, which had, I'm told,
shut fast behind 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, vacantly into the
gloom, gibbering about visitations by beings so that the very
contemplation of their existence would a man's tenuous hold on the
of sanity.
When I visited him at the sanatorium in England, I found him to be a
tragic shell of the man I once knew, a man beset by terrors and
ever wary of the immemorial horrors which he claimed lurked at the
of humanity's perceptions. Indeed, I was glad I had taken a into
which I could his delusional rants, for he had a great deal to
me about The Dreamer In The Catacombs Of Ur: