The patience of Larvae is that of actual metamorphosis. It’s a sensual meditation using all the facilities of one man indoctrinated with fantastical mythology. It’s a trip to ruined monuments of historic excess and glorious divination. Hera will sex you up, Zeus will eat your embryo, and Poseidon will make damn sure you are shipwrecked after escaping Sirenum scopuli. Urna hand-feeds you life-giving ambrosia, and to refuse it, to spit in the face of the gods who wish to control your fate, is forgoing knowledge in favor of chance. The mysteries unraveled in the tome of Larvae are yours to absorb, to gulp until you are no longer thirsty. You have it all at your fingertips. Just press play and let the whispered folk tales become your new reality. Television is for the unimaginative, the unworthy. Urna is for the ambitious, the dreamer. Make the proper sacrifice and your godly prize awaits.
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