Antiquity - Blog Posts

Ancient Necklace with Mosaic Glass Beads, from the Eastern Mediterranean, c.100 BCE-100 CE: this necklace is composed of 30 glass beads, most of which are decorated with stylized faces

From the John Paul Getty Museum:

The beads are made of multi-colored opaque glass and are decorated with heads and floral designs. The necklace is in good condition; some beads are chipped or cracked.

The exact origin of this piece is unknown, but it can be traced back to the Eastern Mediterranean, where it was likely made by a Greek or Roman artist.

Each bead has a width of about 1.2cm (roughly half an inch); they're decorated with remarkably intricate details, and each face is depicted in its own unique style.

Sources & More Info:

John Paul Getty Museum: Necklace with Mosaic Glass Beads

I still believe that one of the prettiest love stories has to be the love story of the god Eros with Psyche, while the story of Appollo with Daphne is a beautiful yet heart wrenching tragedy in a way that it had love and disgust.. (one sided love). What's really magnificent about mythologies in general is that they make us see the world differently. A laurel tree is no longer a tree; but a last attempt of staying pure from the hands of the detested one.

the water engulfed without a moon to reflect. Ashes from desperate cries left burning magnesium through the rues. Starry hands sought the earth, and withdrew as if scalded, scorned whispers echoing through the lifeless home. The heavens grieved and stroked the rivers of fire, flowing ever so serenely now, sobbed harder and washed off memories to a place better deserved. the once bright lanterns, the sole conspirators of curtained stages, no longer remained diminished but choked underneath the clouds. The repressing haze, one which burned your breath, dissipated under the violent fog. The deep violet skies rumbled, quiet in regret, flooded the builds again and again, till life grew anew. The rushing sound never ceased, till the scorched red cleared the ruins brown, till the crushed whispers smelt home. Eventually, a blue, much like your eyes emerged through the tar clouds, and the broken hands gave way to crawling flowers. Amidst the drenched rubble, the soft footsteps of a lone writer remained as lone witness to Pompeii's apology.

Temple of Apollo Palatinus.

The greatness of Apollo in Rome was not just about arts, but politics and military, since he was tutelary deity of Republican Court.

When, in 36 bC, Octavian August won against Sexus Pompey's troops, he thanked Apollo for his providential action and so built a temple on Palatine Hill. The choice of the place upon which was guided by a divine manifastion, e.g in the same place where a lightning fell inside an August's property on Palatine Hill.

Inside the temple (it says that it had ivory doors and magnificent bas-reliefs) there was a sculptural group, object of worship: Apollo, his sister Diana and their mother Leto.

There were kept Sibylline Books, because Apollo was also God of Divination.

𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄 𝐑𝐄-𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃 ;    for their stories to be re-told and nevermore forgotten.  even the dead grieved in forsaken tongues, silenced tongues, mouthing entombed names.  removed and re-fabricated historic fairy tales.  with that premise she had risen along thrill-embodied, shrouded in gold and silk and feverish interest.    “ then let us hurry, lest somnus catches and infects us with his sour mood at this fine hour. ”    her tease was as merciless as her titter was melodic ;  gone quieter with synchronized steps, two arms entangled in one friendly knot.  the angels still observed them in their far too enthusiastic escape, shortly halted at the edge of the road where they called for the ride that would carry them away from their prayers.    ( when was the last time we were mere girls ? )    the lofty governor, the dragon among gods, did not desire their nostalgia of this simpler time ;  devotion now a law to be followed under his iron fist, and by the lamenting heart of eos, the dawn since ebbed into a loveless retreat.  stepping into the carriage’s interiors, she falls into the besotted trance at the sight of forest-green beyond the small window-frame, waiting patiently to be explored.    “ perhaps, i, too, needed an excuse for a day of freedom, and i am most grateful you asked me to join you. ”

         Hands lightly pressed together, ghost of smile peeking out from behind gloved fingers. Although subdued ( a blank canvas, white and pristine and empty, for heavenly words must shine pure through mortal coloration ), budding excitement leaked through the cracks of the vessel’s impeccable poise.  ❝ Wonderful ! ❞  The lavish yet modest accommodations granted by the town for their momentary repose was nice, but she yearned to peer into remnants of times bygone. For but a fleeting, almost even restless moment, silence draped its limpid cloak on her. Imagining what lay before them weaved an entrancing work of art, mind swept under the tide of anticipation beckoning her to search for what had been long forgotten. Perhaps it’s unbecoming to devote so much of her attention beyond sacred duty, conveyance of the holy grace of the gods, but as she rose from her chair, sleeves undulating with the brief motion, steps ached to carry her forth to the mysteries of the unknown all the same. Fortune smiled upon Aera, for her to be blessed by the stars with a sister who humoured her fanciful interests.  ❝ Adventure is what you shall receive then. I seek to walk along the paths laid out within the ancient ruins of the forest to the east. There will be much to see ! Once word of it reached me, I knew I had to go. ❞

𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐖 𝐁𝐎𝐓𝐇 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐃 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐈𝐓𝐒 𝐌𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐆𝐎𝐃𝐋𝐘 𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐈𝐍.    dawn-gold burned its way into lineage, honey lit in cosmogenic lustre 'pon the fingertips of freyja-women.  gullveig had not borne the first mouthpiece's name, yet they would christen her so, anointed as substitute for two, under the parasite of night and daemonic hunger.  wingless and graceless grandeur but a phantomic mirror    (  crestfallen selene knew only the fall )    their chins yet were situated with proud poise.     " my troubles are that of my people.  how shall i guide them out of the dark alone, when the gods still sleep and our chosen king has left us?  how am i to bear this...?  "

Laments and prayers alike ceased not to reverberate within this fallen seraph’s mind even if her wings were torn away and abandoned to drown in her shame and reduced to a residue bound to be forgotten by time. ❝Speak thy mind. I can sense something troubling thee.❞ Of course, that includes hearing the burdens of the Oracle even though the maiden of light might not believe it to be possible.

@moonichor ⚚

𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐀𝐑𝐘 𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐔𝐍𝐁𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃.    t’was between sisters where angels fell on deaf ears, where their choirs ceased so abruptly it rendered time breathless, drowned out by humming bird songs.  as seemingly humble nothings meant everything amid cosmic malediction, what else could she do than accept sweet offers, which may, one day, stand still at a moment's notice ?    “ how could i say no ?  i am in the mood for a little adventure today, and this book can certainly wait.  to what wondrous place will you guide me, i wonder ? ”

It’s not the whisper of a hymn or a hallowed prayer, but the breath of a dying melody curled along the oracle’s tongue in a hushed hum.  ❝ Would you have time to partake in a sightseeing walk with me, Luna ?  There’s a lovely spot not far from the town. It is but a short carriage ride away. ❞ — @moonichor