Edward Boyle library graffiti can inspire and awe
It’s a sagacious concentration of existential thought
With exams looming the Edward Boyle library, our soon departed friend, has become an avant garde gallery.
The next few weeks will be comprised of revision cards, spider diagrams, and the scatological consequences of excessive energy drink. The grey, dreary walls of Eddy B, exuding all the charm and style of a concentration camp, don’t help either; the architect must have been a big Edgar Allen Poe fan.
However, unbeknownst to many, there are places inside the Edward Boyle library that have the ability to inspire and awe, places where the best of the Leeds student intelligentsia expound ideas that amuse, frighten, and scar.
It is of course the intellectual powerhouses which are the Eddy B library cubicles, long regarded as sagacious concentrations of existential thought.
The equation of Facebook with fiery perdition is obviously a modern take on Dante’s Inferno.
There are no words: bask in the glory of this penetrating expose on modern biological thought.
A wise aphorism. Although it doesn’t work for anal.
Yes it’s is son, it’s a fifty foot clown with garden hoses for eyes. Fucking run.
Well, someones in a moood.
A budding poet doing what poets do best – making no sense whatsoever.
Not the most circumlocutory of quotes but 100 per cent genuine in any case. I think.
The moment when a raging Lefty lost their Marxist marbles.
More like Thrasytwatus.
Maybe it’s because your face looks like it’s been in a lawnmower accident?
A thriving surrealist art scene centres itself around Eddy B. One that haunts, enlightens, and terrifies.