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amenities and comfort

You can escape in many ways the holidays, and Related universal feelings that these should call: the goodness of Christmas, the foils for the new year, etc ... Each year, however, personally, I find no use to exploit the end of the year for a budget, a few thoughts, mostly. The budget is a form of meditation and, although it sounds paradoxical, I think that is quite correct economic term for many human affairs and interior.

Another picture, more en plein air, you think like a farmer who goes over their land, he notes the growth or damage caused by the lack of rain, puts his hands into the ground and decide the fate for the next harvest. .. think about this "sum up" like a survey, think of space. To each his own money, I, in choosing to share a thought, an idea with which groped a reconnaissance group, I had a couple of ideas: the first was the fascination of the windows views while walking a city, a passion that warms every laptop and free my walk.
Another idea was to reflect the image of the "Lighthouse": thinking about what conscious or unconscious lighthouse makes browsing safer for all of us, gives us the certainty of a possible landing place, we make sure the ground.

Finally I opted for a comparative thought, which is this: we are dependent on what comfort and consolation from what? Sull'etimo little reflection, which binds and divides at the same time the two words "comfort", from Latin, means "to make strong, "" strengthen. "The comfort then take different paths on the one hand to divert material idea of" comfortable, "" welfare ", the other follows a spiritual side, so you get to see it as an aid to the" despair, "a sad mood, anxiety to. Our lives, I think, to play much in the middle of these two semantic lines, we live in this dialectic, each with the peace it deserves.

Now I come to the point I try to "quail," as Matthew would say: what comforts us comfort, that make us stronger and what comfort rather remain viable in the era of comforts for example do you believe that the Internet is not impaired by our imagination, as well as television? Credete che Dante avrebbe scritto la Divina Commedia se non avesse dovuto immaginarsi l'Inferno o il Paradiso, ma si fosse appoggiato ad immagine filmiche, a stereotipi interpretativi? Quanto il cellulare indebolisce la ricerca dell'altro, quanto ci rende meno pronti alla solitudine? Sull'altro versante invece: credo sia fertile pensare alle cose che veramente ci confortano, ci rendono più resistenti, ci recuperano quando il nostro tessuto si lede, impediscono che la corda che siamo si sfibri.

Il sole sicuramente, gli amici di cui ci fidiamo, un buon risveglio e un buon caffè, una canzone, il tocco leggero o profondo di un altro corpo nudo, la semplicità di due pelli, un abbraccio - di quelli ai limiti delle tears or smiles - the miracle of communication, an unexpected kindness, trust given to us, the malice and the game of seduction that makes us feel beautiful, vital and rich with just a promise, a good pair of shoes, a well-deserved reward, an undeserved stroke of luck, a movie that concerns us, a happiness that involves us etc ...

free to continue the list. I wish you all a good balance for me in 2006 deserves a 7 and 1 / 2! For 2007 I wish all my friends with less than a year Comforts and more comfort, especially with weak discomforted, for which I am still, as always, available! The hope is to be, and that you will continue to be for me, the Comfort's stations, in the fullest sense of the picture ...!

Show Me Black Shirt With Tie

No hay band!

Silence is probably one of the most declined issues in the arts, philosophy and religion. I think the silence (the silence of God) by Bergman, to the music of Cage - ( "For me the essential meaning of silence is the abandonment of any intention," he wrote) - which makes up a blank sheet: 4 . 33 . For four minutes and 33 seconds sitting at the piano, in a real theater, and does not play anything: the first record you hear the wind blowing, the rain in the second furo theater, in the third to the whispers of the audience angry. In literature, I think that the reinterpretation of the story is Kafka on the Homeric sirens, which - says Kafka - they actually have not sung, but for a complex mechanism of rational suggestion, the crew believed to hear. David Lynch, in his Mulholland Drive, shifts attention to the potentialities of sound, its ability to be played, I also thinking of Benjamin and his The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction - in the absence of the real source, in the absence of the orchestra, in the absence of meat. And then I think of the Internet, the amount of entries without source - but how many computer fans, how many fingers tapping on the keys, how many "copy and paste in your eyes, how much meat. So I like to think that in reality there may be no single person behind all the blogs, the posts, the mails, links, scripts, URLs. I know not, but then where are you? Because sometimes there seems to be quieter in the world and across the network, because my friends copy and paste to the inner planet, but we rarely receive a photo? Perhaps because share, off from the virtual, provides for a greater effort, a lack of response, a possible silence ...

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Whether you are for me the knife

Nessuna risposta per ora al mio primo tentativo di scrittura a più mani. Allora, diabolicamente, persevero. Pòsto (si dirà così?), un altro pezzetto scritto tempo fa. Rileggendolo mi sembra ancora discreto, quantomeno interessante. Era infatti il tentativo di porsi in panni femminili, ricordo di averci messo un certo impegno, per quanto concentrato in poco più di un'ora, e di aver utilizzato particolarmente lo stomaco. Ripensandoci ora la cosa più simile e ovviamente realizzata in maniera compiuta e, per come la vedo io, straordinariamente più profonda è il libro di Grossman - di cui la copertina - che non avevo ancora letto quando scrissi queste poche righe. Non cercate paragoni, neanche per scherzo, Grossman's book because in my opinion is unmatched for quality and quantity of the body that exudes from every letter, for the declination of the parts scanned by the idealism of a love maniferstarsi it in the most naked and without shame, putting even foundations as their mean side. I'd like to receive comments particularly women, to know how credible it was centered and the attempt. To you.

I did not see your veins for a while '.

I could see your veins for a while '. You were fattened, in one of your periods of immobility. I can not imagine you fat, tired, I can imagine. It 's like you get fat soul, at times you are much grease inside and out. And I do not know why.

And tomorrow we get married. And I know and I obliged. I know this does not make me a better person, but a woman. You know the weaknesses of women, not force. You do not know the expectation and, to a strange relationship that I can not explain, you do not know by instinct. Your instinct is made up of expectations and flicks, and wounded my prey. You could not jump from a balcony because I could not wait for the right moment. I do. And I will do one day, as I can imagine if I will not have the body to guide me, as if my body will be certain words that we detto questa sera ai nostri amici comuni. Che sono i tuoi, in realtà. Io li ho subiti, capiti, amati, come tu non sai fare. Parli dell’amicizia tra donne come di una farsa teatrale da quattro soldi, e perdi il senso di questa tragedia. Io sono amica del sole, il resto è lotta. E non pensare che sia triste, come dici, la tristezza è il tuo pomeriggio invernale, quieto ai limiti dell’assassinio. La nostra lotta ha regole, direi cavalleresche se non ti facessi ridere, onori, riconoscenze, alleanze. Tu crei territori di pace per avere più tempo per la tua guerra, e un compagno di vino per la sconfitta. E’ bello guardarvi accarezzzare la vita come un cane, combatterla come un avversario alla pari, incensarla come un idolo. I, the idol, I know the anger, the thirst, the code of sacrifice. For you, the sacrifice is a debt to chaos, to me is a tribute rational. I know, I have, I feel. You actually believe you can, you're looking for.

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(Now: what follows is my story starts, idea, little more. In this blog I never posted my stuff, this for now because I used the blog as an expression side , a pretext to set steps and thoughts of others, with which everyone could get in touch without my bulky presence. Obviously, the close circle of friends every post talking a bit 'me, as each citation, passing through un soggetto, si modifica. Questa volta però metto un po' di mie parole con l'idea, mai realizzata, che qualcuno possa continuarle. Chi in questo incipit intravede parole con cui proseguirlo è libero di farlo, e eventualmente di farmelo sapere. Metto solo un copiright verbale su un possibile cortometraggio, che il mio coinquilino Alessandro pensava di realizzarci. Premessa più lunga del necessario, come spesso mi capita. A voi.)


Cercare casa

Cercare casa, da sempre, ma questa volta entro domani. E Lunedì facce, mani e nomi che dovranno ripetermi, che alla prima li scordo, troppo concentrato sui tratti, concentrato nella distrazione. Adoro i traslochi, scegliere musica per un intero pomeriggio, trovare, buttare, liberare la forza di oggetti che parlano lingue dimenticate, invadenti. La senzazione di capire un sacco di cose dopo anni, davanti alle foto la nostalgia come un vento, che ti sbatte in faccia, ti scompone, sempre già dietro di te. E in un secondo altrove, con un bagaglio bianco, la sintesi essenziale di te, disfarlo in un albergo e vederlo trasformato, buttare sul letto libri, pezzi di pezzi, che se tu non ti ricordi loro mica ti sapranno dire perché li hai portati. In treno pensieri pratici, fino allo sfinimento riepilogare se hai preso tutto, poi la paura, realizzare che sei il tuo portafogli, il tuo bancomat e quattro numeri di telefono, un appuntamento. Cerco casa per dirmi che non c’è problem, a shower, the mail, shut breaths to prepare this city read, told, knowing that you forget the first human contact. It happens constantly searching the house, every relationship is. There is the rented house, the choice of first impression, I guess we have sex, go to the bathroom at night, walking naked and barefoot, many dinners and fast cleaning. Emotion is the criterion, its walls consuming experience, not see age. Another house is rough, to fill the vacuum, the slow restoration of pleasure, where the pleasure lies in the small resolved to change the filters to the taps, motionless minutes to see the water flow more fully and regularly charm.

Hotel. In the solitude of increasing the price of a single, one and a half, irony. And I pay in advance, because there is no confidence in my sweater that is ten years old, coffee-stained jeans in the train, I'll never stop spotting. The money, they are always too much until they are few, so I pay an amount not dishonest thoughts, fatigue always wins my sense is woman.

Many passages like this, many carpets on the stairs are always dark because they have to endure, and the same feeling that everything is one year old, and you late. For what? I liked to think of myself in behind a person who, years before I had waited for them. The imagined in the morning to breakfast, alone, with plenty of seasonal waiters. His eyes look unspoken question, she knew that not even wait for me. As a boy, there was something like a melancholy and imagined, in his sad advance, pay for the room, call a taxi, then a train or, worse, a plane lost forever, mingling in the world, without knowing who wound.

now weighs less, because they are passing through, because I have two appointments in a diary and more, because someone found me. Perhaps Julie was ahead and I are introduced into the game to defuse the cruelty of fate, o forse acuendola. Non c’è albergo che negli ultimi anni non abbia visto che con me, nessuna fessura per quell’uomo. Magari tra un paio d’anni lui passerà di qui, nella mia stessa camera, dopo una doccia scenderà per cenare, ma sarà tardi anche per chiedere ai camerieri; altri verranno dopo questi, più giovani, più ingenui, pronti a piegarsi a stipendi meno giusti. Potrei lasciargli un messaggio, penso, mentre cerco di aprire la zanzariera per fumare. E cosa scrivere? Scusa, o meglio, grazie. Ogni tanto quando le cose con Giulia non vanno, e lei si siede per terra, ovunque sia, mi sembra di vederlo nei suoi occhi, l’uomo che ha perso, prende la forma di una sigaretta per entrambi, a volte per me two. Between the first and the second she almost always tries to control and reconciles it to me but now I am the outsider, I feel like a thief, with the only merit of good timing too often mistaken for desire.

But now he has six months to find her alone. One thing is certain, if she meets me, not with her. Because I have two thousand kilometers to train young designers, explaining how to create a need that is not, as is clear from the nice utility, or how to replace the profit in spite of the good to buyers. In five days I give the house near the institute, I empty for now I read about this on the big double price di singola, che da solo non è un grande risparmio. Mi chiedo come sarebbe il mio lavoro senza cellulare, che ora suona e io non so più non rispondere, mentre tolgo un paio di boxer la voce di un collega lava via quel gusto da straniero che da dieci ore inquinava ogni mio movimento. E’ il mio contatto a Parigi.

Da qui in avanti tutto andrà veloce, conosco queste cose. Sono già stato invitato a cena, non saremo soli, molti di noi saranno stranieri quindi curiosi, si parlerà di lavoro, ma il giusto, perché molti saranno giovani, e inoltre nel mio campo non manca mai una certa ironia sul lavoro, una certa superiority to clients, the institution g, in jargon. The restaurant, "The industry" has been chosen by the few French among us who will already have several alternatives for the post. I say this to Julie, who calls me ....

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Caring















be read in the morning and evening

What I love

told me that he needs me.

why I
care of myself where I walk and look

I fear that every drop of rain
can kill me.

B. Brecht, ibid., P.133.

Dasein takes care of what's occurs, and that caring is our own way to coexist with any other institution in our being-in-the-world. The others will be meeting with us in our take charge, but we can take care of them putting ourselves in their place, depriving them of their care and then dominating them and making them dependent on us, or helping them in their care, and to become transparent to free themselves and in their care. In the first case there will be a coexistence inauthentic, in the second case a genuine.

(extracted from an analysis of Heidegger)

Running After Prolapsed Disc

The passenger


When years ago I learned to drive a car, my instructor insisted on my smoking
a cigar, and if
in the tangle of traffic or in tight corners
went out, he pushed me away from driving.
during the race and if I told jokes,
too intent on driving, do not laugh, I tore
the wheel of his hand. I feel insecure, he said. I
passing
I get scared if I see that the driver of the car is too intent
driving.

Da allora quando lavoro
mi guardo bene dallo sprofondarmi troppo in quello che faccio.
Mi impongo più di una volta di guardarmi in giro,
talora interrompo il lavoro per conversare con qualcuno.
Mi sono disabituato ad andare così forte
da non poter fumare. Penso
al passeggero.

B. Brecht, Poesie, Einaudi, Torino 1992, p. 125.

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Passengers Traveling Everywhere protect

PROTECT' , v.t. [L.protectus, protego; pro and tego; to cover; Gr. with a prefix; Eng. deck. See Deck.] To cover or shield from danger or injury; to defend; to guard; to preserve in safety; a word of general import both in a literal and figurative sense. Walls protect a city or garrison; clothing is designed to protect the body from cold; arms may protect one from an assault; our houses protect us from the inclemencies of the weather; the law protects our persons and property; the father protects his children, and the guardian his ward; a shade protects us from extreme heat; a navy protects our commerce and our shores; embassadors are protected from arrest.


Non dormo ho gli occhi aperti per te,
guardo fuori e guardo intorno
come è gonfia la strada
polvere e vento nel viale del ritorno...

Quando arrivi, quando verrai per me
guarda l'angolo del cielo
dove è scritto il tuo nome,
dove è scritto in the iron ...

In the circle of a ring ...

where I fall in love again and it makes me sigh ...
now and when you return the charm

And if I find myself tired and if I find

're better off
already come and I could not keep it inside me


old I already know why
and also hotels
sad and all too little and not enough
and once only

And still protect the thanks of my heart
now and when you return the charm ...
the charm you ...
you near me.

I
rocks in your shoes and dust on the cold heart

in the sun and the words Bastan

I'm sorry if I have sinned, I'm sorry if I'm wrong

if I was not there if I returned


But still protect the thanks of my heart
now and when you return the time ...
time to go ...
the time to be

time to leave time to embrace ..

In wealth and fortune
in pain and in poverty
in joy and fanfare
in mourning and in pain in the cold and the sun

sleep and noise everywhere
protect the grace of my heart
everywhere ... Protect the grace of your heart

protect protect me everywhere worse
anywhere Protect your heart with

Bait Busjanuary 15, 2010

"wheels: The anchor without rocking the sails, and stood still. The tide was up, the wind had almost fallen, and having to go down the river, we can only dock waiting for the ebb.

The estuary of the River Thames opened before us like an endless avenue of entrance. Out at sea, the sky and the sea came together and mingling in the space bright, rust-colored sails of the barges that went up the river leaving carried away by the tide seemed to stand still in red clusters of canvas stretched between the glint of rods painted. A haze rested on the low banks, whose outlines were lost in the fleeting sea. The air was dark above Gravesend, and farther back still seemed condensed into a desolate darkness that hung motionless on the largest and most illustrious city in the world.

by J. Conrad, incipit of Heart of Darkness.

" When you decide to do without it, one realizes how the air force us their limited perception of the existence, of how, as a convenient shortcut distances, eventually you cut everything, even the understanding of the world. We left Rome at sunset, dinner, sleep a little 'and the dawn was already in India. But a country is its diversity and a whole must also have time to prepare for the meeting, it must also make effort to enjoy the wins. Everything has become so easy today that you do not feel more pleasure at all. To understand something is a joy, but only if tied to an effort. So with the countries. Read a guide, jumping from one airport to another, is not the same slow, laborious acquisition - by osmosis, the humors of the earth which, by train, one is attaccati."

da T.Terzani, Un indovino mi disse

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Michelina endormi



per caso mentre tu dormi
per un involontario movimento delle dita
ti faccio il solletico e tu ridi
così soddisfatta del tuo corpo ridi
approvi la vita anche nel sonno
come quel giorno che mi hai detto:
lasciami dormire, devo finire un sogno

20.8.1981

da "Come può un poeta essere amato" di A.Porta, in Poesie, Milano, 1998

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Guest


Guest

I Know You Came
to stay,
to share the space
behind the curtain,
to sip the soup
That oozes from my spoon-body
to Reflect in me:
my stomach to steady pond.

Eggs by Elisa Biagini, Arezzo Area, 1999.








Guest

you come, I know
to stay,

share the space behind the curtain,
Drinking sips soup
leaking from my body-spoon,
to think about in me: my
stomach pond property.

(my translation)

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Postkarten (Postcards)

35.

talk, for pleasure, the pleasures of life, for once (I said
the wife of Van Rossum, Monday at 11) (which is a German Monaco,
own, under the 30, I think, white skin like an egg white):

and the first

pleasure is key, yes, and then, for me, sleeping in the sun (as I was sleeping now,
I told you, before you came: a bare-chested as he sees me, and walking nude
, etc..) And the third is to drink wine (French, if possible, such as
we drank Saturday by Berio, as well as Friday in Rotterdam and here):
(and I've concluded that heaven is fucking in the sun, perhaps, full of Saint-Emilion):

by Postkarten E. Sanguineti

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What everyone thinks



6

that human relationships should be ignored
that minorities are getting smarter
that pain is useful
that civilization is founded on the death
that happiness is the new consumer
myth that reality must have a future that has happened to the art
bourgeois art
a UNOVA revolutionary state express a
new art that painting must be a multiple
that blacks are always the same people who kill whites
that blacks are always the same people who kill each other
nature rebels
you will see that the accounts will not be back
that the written word must be political
short, words matter so much that there are
of those things that can not be explained but which are true
that aesthetics should not be set aside
that we must continue continue continue
that the windows are full of beautiful things
you get used to everything
that eroticism is a routine that is happening
qualosa very different
is really hard to understand what need to

understand but then how do you judge the judges
rebel who will lead us to review


truth that the dream is the dream that predicts

bourgeois culture is that the dream is a lie of the past and the future
dreams come true that witches

know that impotence is typical of the left
the shelter late capitalist dream is that the dream is the

mirror the dream that just fucks

that the Chinese do not dream that the death instinct
it is revealed that there was no talk of the death instinct for charity
instincts that have been invented that govern
instincts is precisely the government's responsibility
reveal your thighs pussy
there is no doubt that the orgasm is the return to the mother in the dream that

fucks the water from the sea
that we come back to the sea that
prospects dilate
that everything becomes collective
that we go together to die
of moralism is not done by four little money soldiper
universals are good for everyone from

"What we all think" in Metropolis Antonio Porta

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Incipit Laborintus

Who is not clear why the title, some consideration. I have worked in recent months on Edoardo Sanguineti, one of the poets on which God willing will stand my thesis. "Laborintus" is the title of his first collection, which borrows from just Everardo German, which makes a very risky assumption etymological, like many medieval etymologies. Everardo it breaks the word into two parts: Labor (fatigue) and Intus (fwd place that states "the deep"). So just Everardo's Labyrinth back in time reveals the effort that is typical of the way through the maze. The etymology is more fascinating than precise, but a little 'to Sanguineti, a little' because I like it too, I presented at the subtitle. That said, to each his Labyrinth. The Internet is a maze, it has many features. The allure, the danger, the impasse, the difficulty of finding a map. I do not remember when it 'was the first time I was fascinated by the labyrinth. It was probably with Pollon, like many other myths is the first text! Then Borges, Rilke then ... now I am reminded of a scene to which my dear friend Ilaria still takes me around: in one camp, at night on the rocks talking on the phone with a girl from little known, I was 19 years and to explain my difficulty in doing a project on our new-born love, I giustificai saying: "You know, I'm a labyrinthine type ...". I posted my friends took me right to my ass for months! In reality, however, I was inside my maze, or only, strangled and unable to explain. There is therefore a verbal maze. Two final considerations for now: one is that there is no escape from the Labyrinth alone, as taught by the legend. The other is that even today some people gather in groups and use labyrinths of brick, sand (see picture in the post on Asterion) as a technique of relaxation or concentration. In the past, enrolled labyrinths in churches as a path of prayer (one is in Lucca). The thought then is that there are good reasons to walk in their own maze or in that of others.

Raylene Richards Wrestler

From Laborintus, 1956
Edoardo Sanguineti

1.

consist of lands in structural complexes are Palus Putredinis

rests tenuous Ellie you my body and you will indefatigable tenuous Ellie were the My body

imaginative conclusion of an almost ecstatic spiritual dialectic

us the quality we receive from the time

you and you my large body

of phlogiston you that you stand up and materialize the idea of \u200b\u200bswimming

systematic iron construction filamentous plaintive

yeast gap in the company of a tough issue

land consists of detente dialogic intemperate insistence

le condizioni esteme è evidente esistono realmente queste condizioni

esistevano prima di noi ed esisteranno dopo di noi qui è il dibattimento

liberazioni frequenza e forza e agitazione potenziata e altro

aliquot lineae desiderantur

dove dormi cuore ritagliato

e incollato e illustrato con documentazioni viscerali dove soprattutto

vedete igienicamente nell'acqua antifermentativa ma fissati adesso

quelli i nani extratemporali i nan i insomma o Ellie

nell'aria inquinata

in un costante cratere anatomico ellittico

further say that because they can not grow

you always calmed my nature and you song methodological

device introspection dell'introversione centrifugal force bounded

Ellie soft body outgrowths of sinful

that we can rotate

and address and smell and worship time

desiderantur (they)

analyzers and analyzer desiderantur (they) also figures

and erotic and sophisticated

desiderantur desiderantur

2nd Birthday Invite Rhyme

The House of Asterion

I know you accuse me of arrogance, and perhaps of misanthropy, or madness. These charges (which will punish in due time) are ridiculous. E vero che non esco di casa, ma è anche vero che le porte (il cui numero è infinito) ¹ restano aperte giorno e notte agli uomini e agli animali. Entri chi vuole. Non troverà qui lussi donneschi ne' la splendida pompa dei palazzi, ma la quiete e la solitudine. E troverà una casa come non ce n'è altre sulla faccia della terra. (Mente chi afferma che in Egitto ce n'è una simile.) Perfino i miei calunniatori ammettono che nella casa non c'è un solo mobile. Un'altra menzogna ridicola è che io, Asterione, sia un prigioniero. Dovrò ripetere che non c'è una porta chiusa, e aggiungere che non c'è una sola serratura? D'altronde, una volta al calare del sole percorsi le strade; e se prima di night I returned, it was for fear that infuses the faces of the crowd, faces faded and flat, like an open hand. The sun had set, but the heartfelt cry of a child and the rude I said prayers for the flock had been recognized. The people prayed, fled, prostrated themselves, and some climbed on stylobate of the temple of the Axes, others gathered stones. Someone, I believe, sought refuge in the sea. Not for nothing that my mother was a queen, I can not mingle with the crowd, even if my modest wants.

The truth is that they are unique. I do not care what a man can be transmitted to other men as the philosopher, I think that nothing can be communicated through the art of writing. The annoying and trivial minutiae do not have shelter in my mind that it is liable only to the great, I could never remember the difference between one letter and another. Generous impatience has not permitted me to learn to read. Sometimes I regret, because the nights and days are long.

Of course, I do not miss distractions. As the ram rushes, I run the corridors of stone to fall to the ground in the grip of vertigo. I crouch in the shade of a tank at the corner of a hallway and play hide and seek. There are terraces which I let myself fall until I am bloody. At any moment I can pretend to be asleep, eyes closed and breath heavy (sometimes I fall asleep really, sometimes, when I open my eyes, the color of the day has changed).
But of all the games, I prefer that of another Asterion. I guess he comes to visit me and that I show him the house. With big bows, I tell him: "Now we go back to the first corner," or "now blossomed into another yard," or, "I told you I would have liked the water channel," or "Now you I see who has a tank filled with sand, "or" You'll see how it splits the cellar. " Sometimes I'm wrong, and we both laughed.

But I only imagined games, I have also meditated on the house. All parts of the house repeat, any place it and another place. There are a tank, a courtyard, a fountain, a barn, the stables are endless, fountains, courtyards, cisterns. The house is big as the world. However, by dint of a tanker along the courtyards and dusty corridors of gray stone, I reached the road and saw the temple of the Axes and the sea. Not included until a night vision revealed to me that even the seas and temples are endless. Everything there many times, countless times, only two things in the world seem to exist only once: above, the intricate sun; below, Asterion. Perhaps I have created the stars and the sun and this enormous house, but I can not remember.

Every nine year nine men entered the house, because I set them free from all evil. I hear their footsteps or their voice at the bottom of the stone galleries and I run joyfully to find them. The ceremony lasts a few minutes. They fall one after another, without that I-chi mac blood on their hands. Where did remain, and their bodies help distinguish one gallery from others. I do not know who they are, but I know that one of them prophesied, about to die, who would one day come my redeemer. Since then the loneliness I do not regret, because I know that my redeemer lives and one day rise from the dust. If my ear could hear all the noises of the world, I hear his footsteps. Take me to a place with fewer galleries and fewer doors What will my redeemer? Maybe it is a bull with a human face? Or will it be like me?

The morning sun shone on the bronze sword. There remained no trace of blood.

"Would you believe it, Ariadne?" said Theseus. "The Minotaur he has not nearly defended."

"The House of Asterion " in Aleph of JLBorges