The Air Itself

"now, i often laugh loudly. sometimes, i am almost overcome with laughter. sometimes i put two chairs back-to-back and i wander into the far corner of the room, into the region where most people would consider sleep. and the wind, it starts to tickle the black pipes of the organ. the chimney gets swept with the branches that come out of the chimney, and then the trees around the church, they got black leaves when the large flock of soot gusts over the dirty, fantastic blackening. i blanked out the stoves and the metallic taste, and the salamanders applied small repairs to the ceiling; it was difficult to anticipate the numb, dull, throbbing hairs of green nothingness that swept up from their impotent bellies. a few weeks later when the curtains toppled onto the wardrobe and the textbooks steadied (it's soon the feeding time), we scattered out to a featherless, wrinkled, emaciated dignity of behavior. one day, i was stopping in the doorway; i brought in a whole mass of feathers and wings up to a furious whirlwind when, in order to accept a complete defeat, the man developed a pendant in the vein of a pale reflection or some sort of illumination of twittering, swift, fantastic lights that flourished in the air. long after the shimmering atmosphere turned into a deep, hazy field of greyness, there was an echo of bright memory that nobody caught, and it troubled the air itself. of all the confusing labyrinths of the morning, there was a lantern that couldn't come to terms with the dressing of the candles that burnt in their sticks-- the candle died; it was lying face down in the lap of dimness, and in the half-light, it looked as if the smoke-colored honey assembled itself again and it revealed a full-grown appearance of a table with two giant fish spread out across a really big plate. the smell of pepper filled my room up, and the fish heads spent the rest of the day in a saucepan. but anyway, i was carried out on a big pair of shoulders, and my eyes laughed in the mirror when the magic of their fingers remained on the table but as a thousand scraps; there was a fantastically colorful snowstorm just outside the window, and it caused me to get hungry for some new faces. when the curtains billowed, i looked forward to the dark breezes that might blow in through the window. it would be like sawdust-- a sweet, terrible bitterness enchanted by feverish activity-- and when i fill my glasses up and walk twice around them, the draft from the door that opened up the curtains glints in my eyes like shiny leather. and when the scraps began to crawl across the floor like rats, i realized it was all an accidental encounter to begin with, and that the magnetism of this young lady was as elegant as her conversation-- and this took the structure of our little bodies and placed the whole conversation into perspective. how delightful and happy it can be to exist with the people you have chosen to exist with! --if, with all respect due, just in criticism of creation, i would like to say, "less form, and more matter." at that moment though, all of us who witnessed it felt extremely uneasy at being present for the humiliation of someone so deeply in awe of an unexpectedly tremendous event. that was the beginning of a series of very interesting and unusual events. it's worth noting now that, while we were in contact with these strange people, that they rebuilt our outward appearance anew. and that next time i shall attempt to explain to you that matter has been given infinite fertility, and we are waiting for the life-giving breath of the spirit. but matter is most passive, and all attempts at organizing homicide is sinful... there is no evil in life when you offer life to newer forms."