Bedtime story

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Her lover’s skin was not like that of a normal person. It was all the same colour, the same creamy white, no veins or prints or hairs at all. The hair on her lovers head wasn't like that of a normal person, were the hairs are all separate and individual. Her lover’s hair was like wood, it had patterns, it had smoothness, but yet again it was solid. And her lover was beautiful. Her lover wore a pink dress, like summer blossoms, it blew around her even when the wind was absent. And her lover looked as if she could disappear into thin air in a split second.

And she danced around the green meadows with her lover, in the summer sun. And they danced and they laughed and they danced once more. Finally she became so tired that her lover lay her down against a fallen trunk of wood. But there the priest came, and she hadn't noticed in time. He scolded her white dress and loose hairs. He took her by the arm and dragged her to the shed. There, he placed her on the bench and he pulled up her skirt. Behind him, she saw her lover. She was laughing. She wasn't wearing her pink dress anymore; she held it over her shoulder. Her underwear was made of pink blossoms too. And she smiled and she smiled and she smiled. And the priest felt her vagina. It was all warm and moist. He drew back his hands in disgust, pulled her upright and commanded her to leave. There was always the cattle left.

And there was her lover, wearing a green evening dress, standing with her back against a big, ancient tree. She was still smiling. Now, they both smiled. And she went to her lover and she took her hands and kissed her. Any casual wanderer might have seen a young girl in a white dress kissing a tree, and letting her hand caress its stem as if it were a person, and feeling the tree as if it had a shoulder, a waist, and breasts.

Her lover put her hands on her lips, and signaled towards the shed, as if to say, it's time for you to go, and me to leave. And then, she was gone. The girl tasted the wood in her mouth, wiped the bark from her lips and smiled. She new her lover was not of this world. And she ran and she laughed and she ran, till she found the bush that shone from the inside, more than the others, because it had a speck of dust inside it, and it was transforming it into a pearl. She got out her cape from underneath the bush, her warm and somber cape, flung it round her shoulders and walked back to the orphanage.

Aethereal Voices

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bought 14 cd's during my last travels, which makes 21 in a year, plus got a few copies of some living necessities from a dear colleague. I'm adding them now to My Musical Identity, which has been used extreamely sparsely over the last year, but which I am again reactivating. I'm already catching up with you deary. Fear and Tremble.