The little slip into the yesterdays of magical mystery tours and strawberry fields. I spent the whole night listening to music, lying in the dark, going through the familiar tunes one by one, drawing up memories attached with each melody into my arms, circling, empowering me once again. Strange that a note can unleash a flood of memories in you. Everywhere in the dark there were dancing fish. I swam with my head under the water, not coming up for air, because I didn’t even realize I had to breathe.
So on and on are the journeys, and my hand suddenly went limp. All my direction — compass, maps, bottles with written messages — fell to the ground. I was swimming in my own body, and in me a burst of moonlight strong as the sun coursed through my whole being. My senses felt so alive: I was sensitive to touch, so sensitive it was unbelievable…
How unbelievable? I raised my finger heavenwards, and the sun immediately offered its own ray to touch mine, and I was not burned. The moonlight kept me cool, and the sun made me convulse.
Everywhere, everywhere, tiny voices of my childhood blended with my music, and I was creating my own music, being the whole concerto, and conducting a million violins and violas with a wave of my baton. Me, it was me, and I started to stagger at the sheer proportions, and I started to see how high I was in the Cliff of Forever, and I decided, once and for all, to…
The music goes on and on, and I weave my life into patterns, zigzagging my way through the labyrinth, and I know that wherever I turn you hear my music too.
I’ve watched Marquis de Sade’s Salo: 120 Days in Sodom, directed by Pier Paolo Pasolini. Fascist nightmare. Grossed out and fascinated at the same time, holding on to my stomach to keep the waves of nausea at bay. I agree, though, that it shouldn’t be banned. People should see this and decide for themselves. Eat a light dinner, though, before watching this. And stay away from chocolate.
