Then, word for word, she said, "You live in a world that is forever structured by metaphor and metaphor." Only by uninterrupted confrontation can everything be exhausted and form an infinitely recurring metonymy. Within these rings, you cross and multiply with words, and live with the passion of hate. It's not a confrontation, it's not a crackdown on the domination system—"

He bowed his head with a smirk.

"The analysis leaves no room for error, and he really deserves to be the new editor-in-chief of "Astral Current".

"That's true. The pace I pursued was to tremble in the long section before the jump. Neither has the intention of resisting, nor is it a fledgling trying to break through the eggshell and break the prison of the "world".

Probably the only thing I can compare myself to is the staff that has lost its magic power in the temple of the Order of Saint Shona! Radiant, the dominant symbol of the past, the incarnation and presence of God – but in the end it is nothing more than a desperate emptiness that needs to be replenished at any time. What it really has is the hunger that loses its flesh and substance. ”

"Have you always been like this? Can't stop laughing at the wounds that have been torn open by the flesh and the grains of salt that have been firmly planted in it? ”

Dante really laughed like that. The moment the visitor's fingers met the smile, the autonomic nervous system ceased to function in amazement. With a clang, the teaspoon slipped down crisply.

His lips were dry and hot, and the polite distance of a table could not help but make the hideousness and ridicule that overflowed his lips a little less powerful. He picked up the potion container and viciously pointed to the place where he had leaked a cave. There was no intonation in his voice, it was purely narrating.

"Here, there, everywhere I can see, it's already full of scum. The gesture of writing is not to pour them out, but to deprive the world of the roulette wheel it never had, and to allow itself to get that moment. ”

"That moment?"

He leaned close to the visitor's earlobe and delivered a desperate open secret. It was like a tribute, and it was like the executioner's last touch of consolation on the prisoner's body before the execution.

"Energy is scattered, the dead dance with the clown, and the end of the story never comes. But I have been given the rod of the serpent of destruction. ”

・

The ends of King St. Teresha's eyebrows, eyes and hair, like the ripples of a water mirror, are all soaked in the light of the statue in front of him. His prayers and confessions are all contained in the empty heart of muttering, and the secret path of the circuit of the pearl and jade chanting flows.

The lips of the statue opened and closed slightly, and he couldn't stop the madness that flowed out of it.

The lowered eyelashes stood against the eyes that had fallen into the cavern, and at an impossible angle, crept out from behind King St. Teresha's back, misting around his slightly trembling swan-white robe.

The time difference between him and the statue is an incomparably long time before even photons can be paralyzed and corrupted.

But when he looked at the kneeling figure and the curves of the statue, and saw the face that was forever torn between insolence and weakness, between divine grace and captivity, he had to refrain from the urge to go too far.

In that reproduction of the face that climaxed instantly, he read the shape of hell of life and death.

There is no escaping the trial! There were faint snake tooth marks on his back, and he was crawling and coaxing with care, and the extreme heat and pain made the nerve endings writhe violently in the filthy lusciousness.

He slumped within the contours of his aura, his sublime hands reaching into the snow-white garment of swan feathers, kneading the withered fruit with a simple nerve current booster, and a low, thick groan oozed from time to time from the closed mouth of his mouth. is like the look of the statue that seems to be smiling but not smiling, and the soul is extremely embarrassed.

The arrows that floated on the body of the photographic statue scratched the scorched earth of the great drought on his neck.

The soft golden hairs are dripping with peril, like the salty desires of the inhabitants of the Dead Sea who have become pillars of salt, poured on the desert with the whipping of time.

The statue's expression was overly intoxicated, as if it had been given to him as a harsh blessing.

At the moment when ten thousand arrows pierced his body, the frenzy of St. Thébastian surged, from the statue's saturated lower body through the water-blue land of destruction, through the narrow funnel of time, and transmitted to the numb knees of King St. Thérèssa's with the fluctuation of electric light.

"Whoever enters this place, you must first give up hope..."

With perseverance, he let the statue in front of him and the electric current booster that toured his lower body act as an aphrodisiac, summoning the soul to recite the out-of-print story thousands of times, sad and longing, only to ask another Dante to cast the serpent staff of the devil and the master, and shoot it into his hot and overturned body, like a blasphemous text.

"The devil's lair, the nightmare that gives birth to ecstasy, the mellow poison...

"Of all the fragments of time you can recover, what kind of story is the most unforgettable and unavoidable?"

Lucifer's question, with a clear but desolate tone, flowed like a silver bell from the ends of Leora's hair. The empty texture shows that the inquirer is innocent and pure, like the water of the newborn galaxy. But he didn't lose sight of the sentimentality that emerged at the moment—like a few withered and dying mandala tidbits falling on the sands of the Ganges.

Before there was time to think, the body's reaction first withdrew from the swamp of intellect and memory. Rising to the surface of the gravity-free bath, Lucifer grabbed Leora's ankle, still dangling in the green foam, with one hand, and pulled it at himself with no good intentions.

"It's a cruel question. It's so terrible, but I can't bear to ignore it. ”

Leora let the other man drag his body, so he replied lightly, without any futile resistance. After all, it's all come to this point, and if you pretend to continue, it's just a coy gesture that doesn't understand the amorous feelings.

Between the light and shadow of the water curtain in the sky, the forms of their intersection sometimes solidify like the ruins of an ancient glacial river, and sometimes they are powdered into the ashes of the remains of extinct life. It is like a pair of amorphous phantom beasts that change between various species, and when they reach the climax point at the top, they infiltrate each other into the time and space of multiple coefficients, as well as each other's tight gates and barriers.

"If you say it, it's not a great secret, is it? In fact, it was just a sudden burst of nostalgia that made the tip of my tongue not very obedient. ”

Lucifer's elbow rested on Leora's lying back, and he explored the terrain and maze between the skeleton and the nerves with great interest. Even so, his tongue did not forget to respond to poetic and brutal words.

"For a period of time, it's not just the tip of your tongue that is not very obedient!"