Saint Spirit

by Quelli di ZEd

without beating eyelash the role from her assigned him. It was very astute to have been combined everything in such way that was his/her lawyer to organize the whole practical part, of way that she could fully enter the definite character with the whole sincerity of his/her heart, so that he/she saw around the artificial world for her built and the same appearances as indisputable reality of his/her hallucinations. Saint had his/her own neutral room whether to close only him with himself to be able to access the drunkenness of its astral trips. Dafne, of other song, some for envy, some to avoid the sadness to feel been excluded by a so important part of the life of Saint, its neutral room was created, an unlikely place where every thing had to conceal how much more possible the century when she lived. In this way she could confuse his/her own memoirs and to deceive his/her own ratiocination. It is useless to hide that the countess amplified his/her dizziness thanks to the inhalation of amazing substances that you/they were filtered in the ducts of air of the room. In that turbinios of states of mind produced by the paradoxical place, from the loneliness and from the chemistry, its self shattered him starting to ramble in visions, feelings and to describe accurate images and scenes that gave more and more as soon as one clear idea of the century in which its distorted psyche falls. After few it was simple even to understand the person to which craved to identify him. You/he/she could write his/her visionary mirage, to shout him/it, or simply to whisper him/it to fior of lips. On the other side there were always ears and awake eyes, ready to receive his/her desires and to turn them into reality. His/her insane lucubrations, once declared, they brought her/it to sink in a funereal is catatonic, so much supreme it was I strive him/it of his/her soul that tried to detach from that body to see more from near that mirror of beyond that it greedily described so much. As the language of the leopard when he/she insinuates him on the wound of his/her prey or the acute look of the eagle when it individualizes from the tall one one possible nourishment of his, so its senses lived the creation of that paradoxical desires. As the beautiful dormant of the fables, Dafne remained then suspended between the sleep and the death giving the hands invisible possibility to create his/her mirage in today's Earth.

  If to Saint its spiritual body was enough for traveling where he desired, instead Dafne was forced to also drag his/her material body in the hallucinations of his/her trips, deceiving him/it with objects, actors and even drugs, so that experience resulted really satisfactory.

  In that breaker for Saint to wander in his/her memoirs meant to find confrontation with his/her ideas, his/her convictions, his/her status quo, that allowed him to focus enough to definitely detach from the conscience for his/her depressing immobility that very in advance transformed him/it in comparison to the times, in a relic of this ch'egli was. To that point it was an instant for the occultist to open his/her third eye and to free from the material hindrance of the third dimension.

  It was in trip. The myriad of energetic points that composed its soul now, fluctuated in the eternal current divine, the Unio Mystica. What for the profane is legend and for the believers it is the supreme aspiration, for him it became reality, tangible more than the subject, a shiny dream, immensely true, any ephemeral existence. That ineluctable fainting was the same conscience of every thing of every being. Its wish didn't annul him, but it was perfectly so much supplemental income from the State to that atavistic universal awareness, that didn't distinguish its confinements anymore, it tasted only a dizzy fullness that softly filled him/it. Everything around him was full; as a bead of soap after all to the sea, that softly he/she is filled with water, to become water in the water, in the everything, he was the everything same. Nothing didn't decide, you/he/she would have been impossible to be relative, to choose something when everything was select and everything chose, when where he/she was wanted to already go him it was, when every place was coexistent in the same place. Nothing must be done when he is everything! That maximum level of illumination, that trip in the heart of the divine conscience, went losing then pian plain consistence and Saint it found again him to always sail gradually more away from the original nucleus, for then to be catapulted in one any relative dimension of the existence. He knew that, not as soon as you/he/she had estranged from the center, you/he/she would have had some second to be able to knowingly decide toward what dimensional reality to go. This time, instead he/she left, that its subconscious or the case, dictated the direction. Who would have been, where, when and as, they were the most fascinating discoveries of every trip of his. Few instants and it was about to hover on the calm country of a stranger place of France. Inclusive immediately that you/he/she would have been only a shade a silent observer of something that would have ended in those earths. You/he/she would not have had the possibility to intervene, neither to make to be heard, would passively have only observed the evolution of events. And here is to take under form to his/her eyes the up to history that was given him.

  VIII

  Katrine Dumont was born in the French country of Cheverny, situated in the Val of Loira.

  Daughter of a modest family of farmers, since child you/he/she was totally hypnotized by the dance, the only thing indeed dynamics and free that would have been able to save her/it from the immovable melancholy of that slim colors crayon that you/they composed his/her small world. The mother of Katrine was a respectable dancer to the parties of country, while his/her father, of rigid and rude customs, you/he/she seemed an alien fallen by the stars during that popular meetings, that revived the silence of the countries and that so much they benefitted to the spirit of the young people. The beautiful wife, despite you/he/she was accompanied by a so gruff man, it didn't brake his/her euphoria in that deserved clippings of thoughtlessness that tore her/it from the dark blanket of the job of country. It danced sinuous and energetic, alone or invited by some fellow townsperson with the passion for the dance, in spite of her husband that limited him to fix her/it mute and to swallow the possible ghosts of the jealousy.

  Katrine loved the dance because it loved anymore his/her mother and so much his/her father it ridiculed the passion of this last and his, so much more she us was thrown headfirst for imploring every doubt of the fact that from great you/he/she would never have become as him. The time it spent in hurry and the liberty of which Katrine enjoyed from child was smothered well soon in name of the decency and the good name of the family. Yes, because his/her exuberance, the rice and the smile that broke sudden that silences all soaked of his/her good-looking deep eyes and naturally winking, framed in a noble and haughty too face for the rudeness of the rude courts that he/she lived, and his/her walk excessively town and uninhibited, the vivacity of a child you/they could be forgiven to, but in the moment in which its body ransomed its forms from the infancy exploding in the female puberty of one "almost" woman that its features recomposed to the goals of the softness, all changed. The liberty of which you/he/she had enjoyed well soon from child disappeared replaced by the heavy reproaches of his/her/their father and by the unbearable limitations to which he/she forced her/it. It was not more her allowed to go out accompanied by the usual company of boys with which blessed scorrazzava between the flowers of field and the endless expanses of wheat. An excessive standstill in the barn with some old companion of scorribande was the delicious pretext for the old maid of country to make to flow their poisonous languages that reached all the ears of the notorious puritanical inhabitants of that burrow of country inactivity.

  The consequences were obvious and ineluctable. The blows of his/her/their father and the repeated punishments had become by now the sad quotidianità of that stupendous girl from the hair color wheat, from the bright eyes as fireflies, black as the beetles on the roots of the trees of laurel. It had a body mozzafiato and the gruff companions of job of his/her/their father, excited up to the marrow by that beauty, rather than to accuse their total lack of refinement, that brought them to crowd all of their eyes on the body of Katrine, didn't have of better to do what the man of the bad customs to reproach that hi
s/her daughter went pursuing in theirs calm and chaste country. Barrel, punishments, more nient'altro represented by now his/her father agl'occhi of the velvety young girl. It was forced to go out wearing a heavy dress of shapeless wool that covered her/it until to the ankles and it held even her hidden the braccias in summer. But the unquenched voluptuousness of that morbid ominidi relighted them and it made them burn of alone desire observing her thin ankles of Katrine and its feet of fairy that seemed not to place him to earth when it proceeded expeditious, full of embarrassment in that orgy of looks, unharmed, but inexorably imprisoned in that condition of fantastic object to like. Thousand times Katrine was thrown to the feet of his/her/their mother imploring to make her/it reason his/her father, to transform the incomprehensible enmity that he had in his/her comparisons and to unite to the cause of his/her/their daughter, fighting and making to stop once and for all the ignoble insinuations on his/her account. His/her mother, consumed by the pain for the inauspicious