what I've done

There's a building in the temple grounds at Nanzen-ji that's beautifully decorated with paintings by . . . some man who's name I can't read due to kanji-ness. All of the paintings are beautiful; red mountains floating over a golden mist, delicately curling white leaves about to fall, flaming momiji in full glory . . . but one in particular struck me: a stormy sky over a baren white landscape, with skeletal, dead white trees lining a broad space leading to a horned and waning moon, low on the horizon and buffeted by dark clouds. Looking at it, I had a sudden vision: Emrys in the distance, walking forward along that broad highway between the dead trees, beneath the scuttling, ominous clouds . . . the moon behind him a bared blade in the darkness . . .

I get so obsessed with his angst that I forget how awesome he is as a villain. So obsessed with beauty that I forget he's also a figure of terror, a nightmare for two thousand years.