When I gaze into the black void of an ancient Egyptian tomb I feel both dread and my old sense of surrender to the unknown sliding over me.
I have always found it easy to slip into the shadows of Egypt’s mystery with its frisson of death, magic and unseen forces, but there are dangers, I know.
‘When you gaze long into an abyss, the abyss also gazes into you,’ the philosopher said.
The slippery descent into hell?
Damnation certainly anoints much of its activity with a kind of divine unction, I’ve often reflected. In the lubricity of sex (how could sin ever feel so tender?) In the flow of whisky, the softness of a kiss, or even, no doubt, the slip of playing cards in the gambler’s hands, the smoothly spreading glow of a narcotic, the squeeze of the assassin’s trigger or the slide of a knife point into flesh…