Sladkou a Brou
Karta Crowleyho Tarotu na POET STORY JE…. na fotografii nahoře v galerii .
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXFor Veronica on Good nightXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX He was walking on the road, echoing the silence inside. „Thank you,“ said, and that was the last time. The birds sang about eating dreams. At least that’s what he was talking about at the Bird Assembly. It came from nowhere in the days when roads became battlefields, steel creatures flew in the air and fire could pass through. So he left his victims, dead, without fantasy, dreams, desires. He played the strings of the wind and added a million dreams to them, watching the landscape in front of him. The birds fell to the ground, pieces of flesh in silent agony. He came to them. Took their feathers and dreams of flying. Put on wings and headed up for the sky. What dreams do Angels have? What dreams does God have? When it was all down, in the spiral of your smile, nodded appreciatively, God’s dream was … WAS. What dreams will the Devil have? About You, my Love ?