If there were one last rustic memory for retainment, to hold on to as an absorbed death; my last thing to keep possession, would it lastly conclude with you in hand? Shuttering breath and condensation, but the warmth I know on my cheek it is a worlds sigh, an unbroken promise spelled in a minds language gone and lost, poured out and evanesce with space like inhale. Cool and pink my skin is stained, once my exhausted memory of you breathing my flesh now a cold vacuum; an ambitious and jarring intrusive reminder that my choice is to return here forever. Its a place not reserved for an affair or apparatus so explanatory as you or I, as effortless or light as time and place, no, this eternal reestablishment is for the unabbreviated, the replete, the everything and... the path.
Love.
Barta
There is a similar occult clock in the catherdral in Florence, with the zodiac and moon phases which the Church used to use to time their important services. Everyone used to know the church was piggy-backing paganism, now everyone is repelled by the very notion. Also: Capuchin Crypt in Italy is similarly decorated. Turns out the monks that gave the world cappicino also gave us lugubrious chapel decor!Caio!
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