This book may be the eeriest ever written.
Written by G. Mackenzie Bacon, medical superintendent at the Fulbourn Asylum near Cambridge, England, the book contains the complex diagrammatic writings of an asylum patient who filled every centimeter of his pages with wild musings and diagrammatic text.
He was asked to abandon this writing style, to which he replied: “Dear Doctor, to write or not to write, that is the question. Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to follow the visit of the great ‘Fulbourn’ with ‘chronic melancholy’ expressions of regret (withheld when he was here) that, as the Fates would have it, we were so little prepared to receive him, and to evince my humble desire to do honor to his visit. My Fulbourn star, but an instant seen, like a meteor’s flash, a blank when gone. The dust of ages covering my little sanctum parlour room, the available drapery to greet the Doctor, stowed away through the midst of the regenerating (water and scrubbing – cleanliness next to godliness, political and spiritual) cleansing of a little world. The Great Physician walked, bedimmed by the ‘dark ages’ the long passage of Western Enterprise, leading to the curvatures of rising Eastern morn. The rounded configuration of Lunar (tics) garden’s lives an o’ershadowment on Britannia’s vortex…”
Sadly, he later drowned himself in public.
