A Greek Dream and a sadness

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Oh yeah
during 1.000 years
in the Greek archipelago of the Cyclades...the hierophants sailed towards the deserted islands.


Hot islands
Desert islands
Hot isles.


It was a pact of blood of 10.000 years; them, the creators of the temples of the sleep, the beginners of the myths os the Sky?


The creators of the organized fear: invasions.


Nothing remained written: nothing was left, nothing was LOVE


Because nothing was HATE.




Or in other words, 800 heads of stone and a time capsule were silently visited. At twilight.


It's supposed that the capsule was an [irradiation] dome of the kreators of the myths of the sky...


It's supposed that time and the space were/are relative, like love, like life itself.
Because the capsule was airy and silvery, like life, like love itself, like the silvery spaces of the temple of Palas Athena, in the middle of the sea.


4.500 years ago, in strange rituals of fertility or silence, Thera, the pink and arid motherland of some nymphs, it was theatre of extravagant rites in honor (of) Apollyon, the blond sun of the creators of the mystic of the firmament(s).


"At the slept forest, the initiated ones saw things that cannot be named", because the island is arid, and it is pink:

cannibalism.




Journeys in time existed, bestialism existed, anal outrages, sodomy, sexual abominations, inverted fuckings, unheard deviant perversions existed

digital-oblong mirrors, deviated coitus/masculinized women.
Existed

Nothing was seen.

Everything was recorded and archived.


Everything is somewhere.

Nowhere

Somewhere

Nowhere.


Everywhere.





As the goldic temple of Zeuz incognito was built by incognito builders.

The soil was blue sand.




Entrance to a Brave New World, our wild and incommensurable New World...

as we knew it


once.





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