patteren:
120107;335
series: los;85
| patteren:
120107;335 |
| [los15] : moirai was becoming more of a forest than a mere garden, or actually it was a garden at the edge of a forest: moirai walked or sat in this garden, which grew more vivid with each visit, and as the fringes of the garden became more defined it was clear that the garden of moirai was perched on the edge of an old forest. With each visit the forest became deeper and grander and I found myself wanting with increasing intensity to proceed from the garden into the forest : as I emerged from moirai, and was physically drained as well as mentally obtuse, virgil laid right in with questions. His questions were incomprehensible to me, or perhaps, more accurately, his questions made sense in some distant way as though part of a dream that I couldn't quite recall. Assarion, the quadrons curve and associated instruments had a clarity in moirai that was untranslatable to the seventeenth level, and although I preferred moirai I was still beholden to the bleakness of the seventeenth level’s reality: virgil’s circular discussions, the parchments with nauseating glyphs, the concrete walls and unmoving air. This seventeenth level is where I was, this seventeenth level was an extension of where I had been, of that place from which virgil had brought me. This seventeenth level was the very core or epitome of that environment in which I had resided for as long as I could remember ... but, there was something before that, I knew there was something that had come before this place of which the seventeenth level was the center and which constituted all of my consciousness and memory. |
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