And true love waits In haunted attics And true love lives On lollipops and crisps

Searchers after horror haunt strange, far places.

Because she—you hear her—she’s calling,
and is always going to call, and it’s better
both of us die by the dagger without anyone
seeing us, Orestes, and die a fit death.

Nature is a Haunted House – but Art – a House that tries to be haunted.