Mid-morning.
Breakfast, paper and chores. It rained part of the night, which is good for the
grass. The morning arthritic stiffness is wearing away and you have the
upstairs and bathroom to sweep. Carol is working on her word/number projects in
today’s paper. The cats are lounging about in separate house regions. Independence
does not wear thin among house cats. - Amorella
0953 hours. I assume I have two ghostly spirits on the
same bent of independence. What is the name of this Cleric? Do I capitalize the
word as a matter of respect? It appears to be used for both singular and
plural, is this correct?
For consistency capitalize Cleric, also use
for singular or plural for simplicity. PouchMaster is the ghostly woman’s
traditional name. We will go with that. – Amorella
1004 hours. My mind feels a bit clumsy – perhaps the
setting is clumsy also.
You have too much imaginary intuition
gushing, young man. Take a break. Post. - Amorella
1020
hours. I was just looking at the postings hits today and the second and the
third readers’ hit were May 13 and June 22, 2010. I was working on book four,
chapter five. I have been thinking about where the gathering of the shamans’
dance over the Styx is and here it is. A few readers picked it out. A
coincidence I’m sure, but still here it is.
Using the 22 June 2010 date let’s search for
material that might be pertinent here. – Amorella
1025 hours. First, the other day I had a flash thought and
lost it about Ezekiel and the four faces. I could not help but think that I see
a spiritual flavor here in that Merlyn has four distinct dream sequences.
This takes more courage to say than you may
think, boy. But were I an Angel I would say you utter such a thought
unflinchingly because it is implied without cost of ownership. – Amorella
1029 hours. It bothered me at first thought but I
dismissed the bother because I am freer mentioning this than not. It seems to
me there are grouping by number that appear to have a symbolic appearance. I
remember an “X-Files” show where such an Angel with four faces appears. Fiction
in any form is but a thinking cap on which one broadens her or his own
thoughts, and some of these thoughts lead on to a sense of wonder. That’s how I
see it. – The X-Files title is “All Souls” it is the 17th episode of
the 5th season.
** **
22 JUNE 2010 Blog Posting (Selected)
Updated
Chapter 5 - scenes 1-15 - first draft
Scene 10
The big wheel run by faith and the little wheel run by the Grace of
G---D. Spin. Three raindrops equal in size, snowman like, whirling one on top
of the other like toy tops. Whirling, each whirling a different direction one
on top of the other. Always different directions. Spinning so fast they appear
to be touching which they are not. When they slow and appear to melt they
become solid in a much of nothing. The dance of twelve begins. Meanwhile, back
on Earth a lonely man by the name of Ezekiel looks up in the air near the river
Chebar and reportedly sees:
I looked,
and, behold, a whirlwind came out of the north, a great cloud, and a fire
enfolding itself, and a brightness was about it, and out of the midst thereof
as the color of amber, out of the midst of the fire. Also out of the midst
thereof came the likeness of four living creatures. This was their appearance;
they had the likeness of a man. Every one had four faces, and every one had
four wings.
Their feet
were straight feet; and the sole of their feet was like the sole of a calf’s
foot: and they sparkled like the colours of burnished brass. They had the hands
of a man under their wings on their four sides; and they four had their faces
and their wings. Their wings were joined one to another; they turned not when
they went; they went every one straight forward.
As for the
likeness of their faces, they four had the face of a man, and the face of a
lion, on the right side: and they four had the face of an ox on the left side;
they four also had the face of an eagle. Thus were their faces: and their wings
were stretched upward; two wings of every one were joined one to another, and
two covered their bodies. They went every one straight forward: whither the
spirit was to go, they went; and they turned not when they went.
As for the
likeness of the living creatures, their appearance was like burning coals of
fire, and like the appearance of lamps: it went up and down among the living
creatures; and the fire was bright, and out of the fire went forth lightning.
And the living creatures ran and returned as the appearance of a flash of
lightning.
Now as I
beheld the living creatures, behold one wheel upon the earth by the living
creatures, with his four faces. The appearance of the wheels and their work was
like unto the colours of a beryl: and they four had one likeness: and their
appearance and their work was as it were a wheel in the middle of a wheel. When
they went, they went upon their four sides: and they turned not when they went.
As for their rings, they were so high that they were dreadful; and their rings
were full of eyes round about them four. And when the living creatures went,
the wheels went by them: and when the living creatures were lifted up from the
earth, the wheels were lifted up.
Whithersoever
the spirit was to go, they went, thither was their spirit to go; and the wheels
were lifted up over against them: for the spirit of the living creature was in
the wheels. When those went, these went; and when those stood, these stood; and
when those were lifted up from the earth, the wheels were lifted up over
against them: for the spirit of the living creature was in the wheels.
And the
likeness of the firmament upon the heads of the living creature was as the
colours of the terrible crystal, stretched forth over their heads above. And
under the firmament were their wings straight, the one toward the other: every
one had two, which covered on this side, and every one had two, which covered
on that side, their bodies. And when they went, I heard the noise of their
wings, like the noise of great waters, as the voice of the Almighty, the voice
of speech, as the noise of an host: when they stood, they let down their wings.
There was a
voice from the firmament that was over their heads, when they stood, and had
let down their wings. And above the firmament that was over their heads was the
likeness of a throne, as the appearance of a sapphire stone: and upon the
likeness of the throne was the likeness as the appearance of a man above upon
it. And I saw as the colors of amber, as the appearance of fire round about
within it, from the appearance of his loins even upward, and from the
appearance of his loins even downward, I saw as it were the appearance of fire,
and it had brightness round about.
Scene 11
Takis took note of Mario and Aeneas sitting solemnly cross-legged but with
eager anticipation in eyes that did not reflect light on the bank of the River
Styx close to where he first met the two not long before. Time twinkled in his
own eyes as they drew themselves up within the outer appearance of his skull. ‘Neither
Here nor There surround the thought pool of nowhere.’
Without so much as a thought by Takis, the soul’s spinning axis is felt
in the core stem of Takis’s mind. The soul immerges as a full spinning
globe as an unorthodox soul-like atmospheric energy is released in his lower
non-mass of middle body.
A nymph’s light, thought Aeneas at first. Takis is cut in half by a thin
horizontal blade of light which is slowly upward full turning into a small
replica of the moon in the sky. His head is becoming a spinning moon-world of
light above and his lower torso and legs a spinning moon-world of light below. Three
small independently spinning she-moon-deities have eaten or taken Takis’s human
form.
Mario
analytically observes Takis’ once head-shape, a full moon circle, moves more
slowly to the right while his mid-chest full moon circle moves quickly to the
left. Below, Takis’s lower full moon circle spins more slowly than the middle
but faster than the once head. The faster the spin the brighter the three
global lights. The spectrum dances strangely without rhythm across each of the
disks, until – violet to blue to green to yellow to orange to red to black to
violet to blue to green to yellow to orange to red to black to . . . .
At once a
dance of three vertical balls of light centered in a circle of twelve
independent vertical balls of three around Takis who is centered, or seemingly
it is Takis centered. Neither Mario or Aeneas can understand the dancing ever
changing disks of light, circling first to the left, then to the right, the in
a spin of the three lit balls of twelve. Thirty-nine identically sized and
shaped balls all spinning in thirty-nine separate directions at thirty-nine
separate rates of speeds. Mario’s mind jumped: a spinning stone circle with a
center stone axis. Light. And, for once in their time being Dead, each, Mario
and Aeneas, cast an eerie green and ghostly shadow that caused their
heartsansoulsanminds to sense a heaviness, a weight.
Circles of
thirteen identities in thirty-nine dancing lights over the River Styx and
another Light enters with wall-less shadows churning and painting a starless
tent over the River and both its shores. The lesser, the thirty-nine dancing
lights flicker and disappear into such a shadowed enclosure. And from such a
darkness a small speck, a needle prick of a light appears and draws in the
weight of real, imaginary, and invisible worlds. Were not so dark with freedom
between an individual’s heart and soul and mind the Unsupervised Light would
glow unnoticed.
Unknown, the
Supervisor pulled what modern humans might call a magical hat trick beneath the
stage of gravity and all its darkly material attractions. It was nothing of the
sort of course. In the seed of a quantum tangle of all realities is
imagination. Separating imagination from reality is like separating an
individual’s heartansoulanmind, and therein lies the contrivance, the
automaticity, built into the Supervisor HeranHis self.
Interfaced within the minutely lit outer darkness forms maneuvered within the
multi-wheeling minds of Mario and Aeneas fire shot upward and downward in the
center of an instant in being Dead. The voice of the dreamer became the silence
of dream. Whole drops the W and what IS, IS NOT. Those who say they know, know
nothing. Those who know nothing bask in an interlude of understanding of their
lack of knowledge.
In less than the blink of an eye neither man had, a lull, a lack, formed a
refreshed library in their minds. Study developed into a new meaning of
experience. As Mario and Aeneas calmly observed, the still quiet waters of the
River Styx lay out beyond the mid-afternoon shore as usual. The dancing lights
had disappeared, night and day also disappeared. Unknowingly, Mario and Aeneas
had died for a second time and neither could begin to understand the
consequence.
The original twelve shamans however, the dancers who understood, had quietly
returned to who they had always been in life and death. Ishtar, a woman from
Assyria; Enki a high priest from Babylonia; Jun from China; Amenhotep from
Egypt; Amrita, a woman from India; Teja of the Indo-Europeans; Meir from
Israel; Kagami, a woman from Japan; B’alam from the Central American Olmec;
Tiwanaku from High Peru; Dido, a woman from Phoenicia; and Mother’s first,
Panagiotakis from pre-ancient Greece. The meanings of the Shamans’ given names
in no particular order are: Truth; Holy; Glow; Light; Pharaoh; Immortality;
Virgin; Lord; Star; Mirror; Jaguar; and Center-Stone. This witnessing and
understanding of Mario and Aeneas was silently taken back to Mother for her
perusal.
Scene 13
Takis found himself comfortably alone with the early stars already sprinkled
about as the full moon rose in the east. Merlyn pulled himself out of what was
supposedly thin air.
“Hello, Panagiotakis. Merlyn here.”
Takis
immediately thought, a mix of dreamtime, and he replied rather dryly, “How
uncommon.”
Merlyn whispered, “I touch all within the lines.”
“So be it,” droned Takis aloud. “Where are you, Merlyn?”
“Within.”
“How can this be?”
“I am the Dreamer,” acknowledged Merlyn with a determinable amount of
emphasis.
Quickly, a surprised Takis understood and affirmed, “You are alive.”
“I am within a friend of living consciousness,” said Merlyn as politely as he
dared.
An enigmatic probability within matterless range, thought Takis, and did not
reply. Step by step Takis thought this problem out. Merlyn’s spirit is within
my own or appears to be. The friend, his carriageless carrier, must be
of an earlier age than myself. What human spirit could stretch so far without a
Betweener’s help?
Takis felt a Betweener to be morally indeterminable, a distinct possibility in
the natural order but not a probable one. An accident of being, he thought, is
better than one of purpose for good or ill. I need counsel. He walked a short
distance upstream then out above the Styx and summoned the other eleven.
The full moon stood almost directly overhead as each shaman emerged from the
air dancing in a whirl near Panagiotakis. Reason, directed by from the
modernized Latin alphabet, places each in a particular moment. Amenhotep, Amrita, B'alam, Dido, Enki, Ishtar, Jun, Kagami,
Meir, Teja, and Tiwanaku was the last whirling shaman to emerge alone from the
air above the moving waters of the River Styx. From the energy of the shamans’
perspective they, twin-named in meaning, were Pharaoh, Immortality, Jaguar, Virgin, Lord, Star, Truth, Mirror,
Light, Luster and Stone who danced over the River Styx and around our genetic
Mother’s shaman, named Holiness. Name and Name Meaning are separate aspects,
the stone and cement of consciousness in the first twelve Earth-minded shaman
Dead."
First, the consciousness of the four women froze in place. Pillars of
determined thought, a focused will of being. Then, the willed consciousness of
the eight men froze, also in place. The setting above the River Styx became
seemingly synthetic, a shadowy seamed substance of collective will filtered
through the moonlight above the darkly moving waters of the Styx. The now
filtered moonlight of a moon which only existed because the collective
hypnotically unconscious human wish of the Dead made it so. Each shaman thus
planted heranhis own garden of real determined thought and consciousness to
grow and spread flat without accident. And, where below where the shaman stood
as well as above where the shaman circle of twelve stood the River Styx reached
the edge, the first corner of Merlyn’s chess board and lapped itself around
three more new corners. Up or down, it made no difference. Where thought exists
in its own place nothing comes close, nothing becomes a protective skin, as it
were, and new forms of the After-World rise and dance throughout the minds of
the cultured Dead in Elysium, Assyria, Babylonia, China, Egypt, India,
Indo-Europe, Israel, Japan, Olmec, Peru and Phoenicia.
The awareness of the shamans few became, almost overnight, the awareness of the
many. The many human Dead became as one, with a secretly sun-yellow yoke of
common hope centered in a monstrously dark egg of self-centered regret.
Such it was for all, including our individual characters in this up-start of a
story of the first Rebellion of the Dead which began for the Living two
thousand and some seven hundred years ago.
Merlyn thus
reached another level of understanding, a place beyond words and knowledge but
not beyond reason. If an Angel exists, thought Merlyn in those and these
days, Reason still stirs her Heart.
Scene 14
Merlyn’s Mind felt a movement, a tincture-toned tearing, a two color rupture,
an imbalance caused by one disembodied spiritual plate sliding over another
more cerebral. Two forest green pillared candles spiraled in blue, appear
pulled, one on each side of the dark matte(re)d square of White King Five.
Empowered, he thought, but not so smooth as an earthly running with legs. From
this rafted mind-set Merlyn stood flat and carpet-like with that Merlyn eye
above observing the River Styx below. A distant river tensely Cobra-coiled with
its open-ended mouth set to engorge or regurgitate.
.
The mind is
at once formless and formed, from coiled serpent to chessboard. Both or one in
the same because they are beyond registry even with my wisest judgment at hand.
It is no wonder the dervish of twelve appears to have stopped cold and as solid
as the dark naked mold of the yet to be heated and fired blade.
A master
smithy I am to forge the melding of heartansoulanmind to more easily bridge
timeanspace by a conditional thought wheeled from the footsteps of an Angel’s
afterthought. With board underfoot I walk the sixty-four squares, the warming
bridge of calculated reason to mix a cemented soul and cold-hearted stony iron
beams into a new form of shadowed light within the joining minds of the Living
and the Dead.
Scene 15
An earthly mental framework formed without Merlyn’s conscious knowledge, the
inward vision of the fourteenth century cathedral at Canterbury in southeast
England’s district of Kent. In life, in the sixth century, this Scottish bard,
Merlyn the Druid, had once tread the local grounds of St. Martin of Tours, the
oldest church in England still in use today, in hopes of speaking to the then
pagan Kentish King Ethelbert and his Queen, Bertha, the Christian daughter of
Charibert I, King of Paris. Merlyn had surprisingly reflected upon his arrival
at the church to meet Ethelbert that ‘this St. Martin’s is hallowed ground,
but it is not Druidic hallowed ground.’
Merlyn’s unconscious mind, trained in the Classical and Druidic way via Greek
and Latin, worked its magical frame and stone. The earthly minded
ecclesiastical nest-work settled into a mélange of added understanding – a
crucible of powdered red earth, fire heated and slowly stirred in a beaker of
the waters from the mighty Styx.
Merlyn dipped this sacred mixture into the nave and quire of his now
cathedral-like mind. The unconsciousness and consciousness of dreams wafted
about leaving the characters of the first three books therein high and dry,
standing or milling about in the great nave, baptized, as it were from duty
rendered and listening to the echoes of their dialogues running along and up
and down the walls of the quire. Ghosts of page filled dreams stuck within the
cathedral that rose transformed from the voice of Grandmother Earth in a
Medieval choral duet with an unknowable Voice only recently capitalized for the
moment at hand.
The great Board and the Cathedral became one. Each stone block of esoteric
architecture cemented in a fiery mix of reason in imagination and imagination
in reason. The great Tower Bell rang once. Only those with an inner eye and
inner ear saw and heard the explosion that flashed within its own light and
reverberated within its own sound. Merlyn saw and heard nothing but the
characters of the dreams stood as still as the walls and embedded in the heart
of one conscious reader in ten thousand. The rest, the emotional fire buried in
the vaults of dead human and dead marsupial unconsciousness waiting for the unknowable
echo of the great Tower Bell.
My pupils, thought Merlyn, the dark lettered lines running the living white of
my eyes. Pages bound into books to leak out our knighted Dead on squares of
light and dark. And from within and beyond a secret hope squeaked from his
unvoiced soul, it whispered to Merlyn alone, “What is once done cannot be
undone.”
Merlyn unconsciously responded, 'Learning I have done, and
learning more I'll do.'
Selected
from Chapter Five of the uncompleted Book Four.
** **
1059
hours. It is exhausting to read these lines but my passions well up in doing
so.
My thanks to those recent readers who remind me of postings past.
1323
hours. I feel like I am mixing paints while mixing these paragraphs further
selected from chapter five, book four.
We will draw from these words for Dead Seven
and we will continue this drawing for Chapter Five, Book Four in Dead Eight.
Add these further selected. – Amorella
** **
The Mix for the PouchMaster
‘Neither Here nor There
surround the thought pool of nowhere.’
The big wheel run by faith and
the little wheel run by the Grace of G---D. Spin. Three raindrops equal in
size, snowman like, whirling one on top of the other like toy tops. Whirling,
each whirling a different direction one on top of the other. Always different
directions. Spinning so fast they appear to be touching which they are not.
When they slow and appear to melt they become solid in a much of nothing. The
dance of twelve begins. Meanwhile, back on Earth a lonely man by the name of
Ezekiel looks up in the air near the river Chebar and reportedly sees:
I looked, and, behold, a whirlwind
came out of the north, a great cloud, and a fire enfolding itself, and a
brightness was about it, and out of the midst thereof as the color of amber,
out of the midst of the fire. Also out of the midst thereof came the likeness
of four living creatures.
The original twelve shamans however,
the dancers who understood, had quietly returned to who they had always been in
life and death. Ishtar, a woman from Assyria; Enki a high priest from
Babylonia; Jun from China; Amenhotep from Egypt; Amrita, a woman from India;
Teja of the Indo-Europeans; Meir from Israel; Kagami, a woman from Japan;
B’alam from the Central American Olmec; Tiwanaku from High Peru; Dido, a woman
from Phoenicia; and Mother’s first, Panagiotakis from pre-ancient Greece. The
meanings of the Shamans’ given names in no particular order are: Truth; Holy;
Glow; Light; Pharaoh; Immortality; Virgin; Lord; Star; Mirror; Jaguar; and
Center-Stone.
The soul immerges as a full
spinning globe as an unorthodox soul-like atmospheric energy is released in his
lower non-mass of middle body.
A nymph’s light, thinks Merlyn. An
oncoming spirit is cut in half by a thin horizontal blade of light which is
slowly upward full turning into a small replica of the moon. Her head is
becoming a spinning moon-world of light above and his lower torso and legs a
spinning moon-world of light below.
Merlyn observes the head-shape, a
full moon circle, moving more slowly to the right while his mid-chest full moon
circle moves quickly to the left. Below, Takis’s lower full moon circle spins
more slowly than the middle but faster than the once head. The faster the spin
the brighter the three global lights. The spectrum dances strangely without
rhythm across each of the disks, until – violet to blue to green to yellow to
orange to red to black to violet to blue to green to yellow to orange to red to
black to . . . .
At once a dance of three vertical
balls of light centered in a circle of twelve independent vertical balls of
three around Takis who is centered, or seemingly it is Takis centered.
Thirty-nine identically sized and
shaped balls all spinning in thirty-nine separate directions at thirty-nine
separate rates of speeds. Merlyn’s mind jumped: a spinning stone circle with a
center stone axis. Light. And, for once in their time being Dead, each, Merlyn
and the Spirit cast an eerie green and ghostly shadow that caused their
heartsansoulsanminds to sense a heaviness, a weight.
Circles of thirteen identities in
thirty-nine dancing lights over the River Styx and another Light enters with
wall-less shadows churning and painting a starless tent over the River and both
its shores. The lesser, the thirty-nine dancing lights flicker and disappear
into such a shadowed enclosure. And from such a darkness a small speck, a
needle prick of a light appears and draws in the weight of real, imaginary, and
invisible worlds. Were not so dark with freedom between an individual’s heart
and soul and mind the Unsupervised Light would glow unnoticed.
Unknown, the Supervisor pulled what
modern humans might call a magical hat trick beneath the stage of gravity and
all its darkly material attractions. It was nothing of the sort of course. In
the seed of a quantum tangle of all realities is imagination. Separating
imagination from reality is like separating an individual’s heartansoulanmind, and
therein lies the contrivance, the automaticity, built into the
Supervisor HeranHis self.
Interfaced within the minutely lit
outer darkness forms maneuvered within the multi-wheeling minds of Mario and
Aeneas fire shot upward and downward in the center of an instant in being Dead.
The voice of the dreamer became the silence of dream. Whole drops the W and
what IS, IS NOT. Those who say they know, know nothing. Those who know nothing
bask in an interlude of understanding of their lack of knowledge.
In less than the blink of an eye
neither man had, a lull, a lack, formed a refreshed library in their minds. Study
developed into a new meaning of experience. As Merlyn and the Spirit,
PouchMaster, calmly observed, the still quiet waters of the River Styx lay out
beyond the mid-afternoon shore as usual. The dancing lights disappear, night
and day also disappeared.
Chapter Five Selection for use in
Dead Seven
** **
1330
hours. There appears such a randomness in this.
1902 hours. It took me an hour or so later to realize that
this segment is being presented from PouchMaster’s; something I did not
suspect. The theme of this chapter is “Common Core”. It looks like this is in
reference first to the [human] spirit, the combined functioning of the higher
consciousness of the heart and soul and mind across the Milky Way Galaxy to
Earth.
There are a variety of ways to interpret the
chapter theme word – this is a thinking person’s trilogy in wonderment, my man.
– Amorella
1917 hours. Most people would not perceive ‘wonder’ with
entertainment, Amorella.
You speaking for most people now, boy? –
Amorella
1919 hours. No. I must learn to keep my mind shut. You are
right. Basically, I see these works and blog as my passion for curiosity and
wonderment in relationship to the human spirit. Often times I secretly do not
feel that close of a relationship with my fellow Homo sapiens because of my
personal interests. I don’t have a conflict with this, but it is comforting to
me to think I do belong to our species. I am thinking here not in relations to
friends and family, but more to the climate of the general culture in the
United States. Political, religious and social cultures have been here long
before all of us and they are ever-transforming just as languages are. I am
thankful to enjoy my privacy to the point of living in a ‘mental’ glass house
so to speak. Strangely, as I have stated many times it allows me a freedom I
would not otherwise have. William Blake and Emily Dickenson come to mind first,
then Ralph Waldo Emerson. These people as I have come to know them through
their literature and art are comforting human spirits to me. They might not
feel this way about me but I feel they are a part of who I am in terms of ‘comfortable
spirits’. – rho
It is good to hear this, Amorella. Thank you kindly.
2136 hours. I am comfortable with you also, Amorella, more
so than I was twenty-five years ago. Following my own experiences in
imagination and reason I can take on the fictional character/persona of the
PouchMaster.
I will thus take on the persona of
Elderfelder who remains in the spiritual pouch of PouchMaster. – Amorella
2143 hours. You continually surprise me. How can this be
even in a fiction?
It is the persona not her spirit. The
PouchMaster dances to the tune of Elderfelder’s soul, if you will. Elderfelder
keeps her [human] heart intact within her own soul. PouchMaster’s soul is
‘forever’ in a dance with Elderfelder’s soul. They are metaphysically
entangled. Elderfelder is an example of ‘accident’ just, if you will, a case
can be made in these books that physics is also an accident or not. We are
leaving G---D out of this equation because these books are not intended to go
further than they do. We do not go, where out of Respect, the Angels do not go.
– Amorella
2155 hours. I can live with this sense of ethics.
How good of you boy. – Amorella
2157 hours. What about the new babe born similarly in the
story?
Accidents can happen at any time. She
however may be helped in such a technological science and humane filled future.
– Amorella
2200 hours. I can see this quickly becoming a dilemma for
the marsupial humanoids. I also detect the darkest of dark humor here.
This is only for those with such an inkling.
– Amorella
2213 hours. This is but too much of a shock all at once
for ParentsinCharge let alone the general population of ThreePlanets. Why all
this coming their way?
Some may say it is meddling in another
planet’s business, that the Godofamily is angry and punishing them. Others will
worry that the real Elderfelder has returned, a physical ghost of sorts in
retaliation for disturbing StoneHouse. – Amorella
2217 hours. But this cannot be true. The babe exists
before StoneHouse is raised.
Who are you to quibble about the faith of
many marsupial humanoids? – Amorella
This is a quandary. How can this be contained?
How can anything be contained, boy, once it
is a known circumstance? – Amorella
2221 hours. What ho. What, a fiction derived from an
unwitnessed and irresolvable existential/personal circumstance?
I think it would catch the listening Angel’s
attention. – Amorella
2228 hours. I cannot bear to think how this will resolve
itself for these poor Earthlings. Friendly and company have very little control
here.
This is so much for Earth and ThreePlanets’ general
perspective on reality. You want a book with a bite in it don’t you boy? –
Amorella
2234 hours. I would like some hope.
2239 hours. I see a hint of Frank Herbert's Dune in this.
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