.... continued fromhere
DAUGHTERS OF BASTET: eleven
Some of the following may, some may have not, happened: Carver pressing, in a spasm, his Uzi's trigger... the small white object being dashed from his left hand and describing a parable in mid-air... Ms's tiny form becoming somehow blurred and undergoing an unaccountable transformation... Andreotti losing his nerves and firing frantically toward the place Ms was the instant before....
Carver's face becoming even more unpleasant to stare at than it had ever been... a strong frankincense scent invading the dirty storeroom... lots of things, including an emptied Uzi and an eyeball, falling all around me as well as on me as I was plunging in an attempt to grasp the small white thingie.... and the handgrenade finally escaping to my grasp...
What I know for sure happened is, while trying to dodge Jeffries's bullets, I rolled all the way downstairs. For there is no other explanation to the fact I survived the explosion that devastated the first floor of the abandoned warehouse, and found my way to the street , suffering of nothing but a severe headache and probably a bit confusion (for I remember having declaimed some verses by Lucretius, addressing apparently to a stop sign).
The usually quiet neighborhood looked a little like Beirut in the late '70s. Or Grozny in the mid-'90s. Or Baghdad in the early '00s. The very minute I remembered what my name was, what I was doing there and why it was better I tear out, there was one more explosion.
Apparently it was one of the auxiliary vehicles they had sent as a support to the now decimated NBC team.
Something in the middle of the geyser of fire shone brighter than the flames themselves.
It was clearly visible for a handful seconds, then it rose high in the sky, described a full circle, then half another, and finally headed East.
"And the feathers around its neck shine as the finest gold from Arabia; and from the neck back to the tail its color is purpurine; and the tail a rose color: so it is described by the Arabians, who many and many a time saw it".
Old Brunetto Latini had in no way fabulated about the Phoenix's magnificence.
to be continued...
DAUGHTERS OF BASTET: eleven
Some of the following may, some may have not, happened: Carver pressing, in a spasm, his Uzi's trigger... the small white object being dashed from his left hand and describing a parable in mid-air... Ms's tiny form becoming somehow blurred and undergoing an unaccountable transformation... Andreotti losing his nerves and firing frantically toward the place Ms was the instant before....
Carver's face becoming even more unpleasant to stare at than it had ever been... a strong frankincense scent invading the dirty storeroom... lots of things, including an emptied Uzi and an eyeball, falling all around me as well as on me as I was plunging in an attempt to grasp the small white thingie.... and the handgrenade finally escaping to my grasp...
What I know for sure happened is, while trying to dodge Jeffries's bullets, I rolled all the way downstairs. For there is no other explanation to the fact I survived the explosion that devastated the first floor of the abandoned warehouse, and found my way to the street , suffering of nothing but a severe headache and probably a bit confusion (for I remember having declaimed some verses by Lucretius, addressing apparently to a stop sign).
The usually quiet neighborhood looked a little like Beirut in the late '70s. Or Grozny in the mid-'90s. Or Baghdad in the early '00s. The very minute I remembered what my name was, what I was doing there and why it was better I tear out, there was one more explosion.
Apparently it was one of the auxiliary vehicles they had sent as a support to the now decimated NBC team.
Something in the middle of the geyser of fire shone brighter than the flames themselves.
It was clearly visible for a handful seconds, then it rose high in the sky, described a full circle, then half another, and finally headed East.
"And the feathers around its neck shine as the finest gold from Arabia; and from the neck back to the tail its color is purpurine; and the tail a rose color: so it is described by the Arabians, who many and many a time saw it".
Old Brunetto Latini had in no way fabulated about the Phoenix's magnificence.
to be continued...
VIEW 12 of 12 COMMENTS
ratsonjulia:
death to dada!
ratsonjulia:
perhaps GWB's oversized shoes explain how he can slip his feet out of them & into his mouth so effortlessly....