N

<p>"For a moment my heart stood still and I gasped for breath. Before me in place of the familiar structures there was disclosed a panorama of unearthly of astounding beauty. In deep dells bowered by overhanging trees there bloomed flowers such as only dreams can show; such deep purples that yet seemed to glow like precious stones with a hidden but ever-present radiance roses whose hues outshone any that are to be seen in our gardens tall lilies alive with light and blossoms that were as beaten gold."</p><p>Written in December 1935 when Arthur Machen was his early 70s <em>N</em> reveals itself as one of the finest of his pieces: a strange mystical tale about a possible hidden paradise in the London suburb of Stoke Newington.</p>