H.K. Lovecraft

"None remembers the countless black suns dimmed, snuffed at their zenith as human toiled.
Towers, cities, idols, pharaohs, kings and cultures, unspoken aeons, all shall fall."


...But beer had remained, a mystic and a magic of ages passed, brought our race across the lands and oceans, with us in our survival, our stories, our triumphs and our festivals. Until discoveries of far distances, we looked inward to all things, and found the occultism of yeast, of hops, of malt, harnessed their power, and a multitude of craft arise.

 

All of us, the labourers, the brewers, the tasters, we are the keepers of this art.

 

Beer will remain as long as human last.