Ammi’s horse still pawed and screamed deafeningly in the road outside,
and nearly drowned its owner’s faint quaver as he mumbled his formless reflections.

H. P. Lovecraft, “The Colour out of Space”

I’m Viktor Eikman. Elsewhere I seem to lead an adult life, usually programming, sometimes for its own sake. These are my formless reflections.

The Third World. Heavy loads, manual labour, children in ramshackle housing, natural beauty and life close to it, Fir...

Less variety, fewer powerful clashes; somewhat toothless by comparison.

Viewed 2019-03-26. Ugly in unsafe old browsers.