麻豆社

Somewhere within an area bounded by Zola's residence in exile, Pissarro's paint pots, Marconi's mistakenly Martian message receiver and the site of a Spurgeon sermon, lies a tract of boggy ground of which not even ardent foragers are aware.

It was whilst digging for peat on this land that my spade struck the metal box.

A box buried in the rich dark layer.
A box buried in the moine dubh.

On retrieving and opening what looked like an ammo tin I found it to be full of quarter inch magnetic tape.

Tapes full of invocation,evocation and magick.
Spells etched into magnetic ribbons.