In the early days of 1975, David Bowie was a broken toy. Holed up in his grotesque Los Angeles mansion, the British musician spent his days reading obscure essays on Nazi esotericism, watching television sprawled across a wide Victorian four‑poster, and performing black‑magic rituals inspired by his new hero, the crackpot charlatan Aleister Crowley.Seguir leyendo
In the early days of 1975, David Bowie was a broken toy. Holed up in his grotesque Los Angeles mansion, the British musician spent his days reading obscure essays on Nazi esotericism, watching television sprawled across a wide Victorian four‑poster, and performing black‑magic rituals inspired by his new hero, the crackpot charlatan Aleister Crowley.
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