Hour of vigil and melancholy on the night of July 13, 1839. Dedicated to my kind in disillusionment. Only him.
I didn’t blame you for that drop of bile. It was bile of a different kind. It is not a bile of deception, nor false, no, I do not write to people who deceive. At the bottom of each sweet cup is a drop of bile. Bile… very bitter bile is indifference.
The leper did not move, sat on his haunches by the ditch and bowed his head, a faint wooden drumming and the monotonous word ,, unclean “ could be heard.
The market, another world of Akkar markets, starts quite inconspicuously, the number of small shops and vendors spread along both alleys of grief is slowly multiplying, you pass piles of all kinds of fruits, nuts, peanuts, combs and jewelery-people not only buy and sell but also bargain-
The Darling darling begs the overgrown businessman:
-How much does this whip cost?
Trader: -Get the gods damn me, I can’t give it cheaper than five shillings… –
Cheeky darling: Five shillings? That would only be bought by a fool!
I don’t even remember how many times he left and came back. Finally:
-I’ll give him for two shillings, otherwise I’m pretty devastated, I’d rob my family, I couldn’t sell you anything in my life anymore… –
Cheeky Darling darling-I’ll give you six pence! –
-Good thing it’s you, here you have it! This is my end, I will no longer be able to buy skins in my life, I will go home on my knees like a beggar… –
The darling Darling throws money at the traders‘ feet and reaches for his whip. She takes it in her sweaty hands and disappears into the crowd, her body knocked with excitement..It goes to the dark glory of her house, nooks and other bodies…
And when the satisfied merchant disappeared, the Merchant rejoiced and rubbed the hands-gesture of All the Merchant’s world, the greedy.
I opened my eyes and the smiling face of my black friend, who after a while appeared in the bathroom door, confirmed the idea that people, if they want, can always come up with a name- It’s me here, and smiling at you, I’m good friend, i love you, come here, be gorgeous, you feel how worthless this world is and its naughty joy, adios my dear, oh! quil enniue, mon ami, de passart tant des temps sans t endre parler ../ Oh how I miss my friend when I don’t see you for a long time /
It’s like in one African fairy tale-You look for the present and you find it among the shadows of the past, you look for the future and she is in the limelight of the present day.
You shake your hand and the present slips through your fingers into the past and you can only look back at it melancholy – in the alleys of sadness.
It all started a long time ago.
Minerva’s owls fly at dusk.
End of chapter š.š. six.
card of Crowley Tarot on publicatition is….Eight Cups
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