Inside the Belly of the Architect

It was at the Black Rose Tavern. No, Frankenstein's. Maybe it was Jeckyll & Hyde's. Bugger! I don't know, I don't remember. One of these places. Sorry, they all look the same. Anyway, we met in “Garterland”. That's what I call these pubs, 'cause the girls wear garters, and that's why I go there. I can't stand the music, but I've learned to ignore it. And she was wearing garters. Her stocking had a cute little lace pattern at the end. She had put a lot of money in her outfit altogether. I can tell now: the cheap ones from the fancy ones. The outfits I mean. I've developed quite an eye for this, a pro really. So, when I saw her, I knew she was wearing the fancy stuff. She took me home, and I made the most incredible discovery. I looked around, and there we were, still in “Garterland”! I mean, her room looked like one of these pubs! Then she asked me to do this thing, she wanted me to make soap bubbles; I don't know, we were naked, I was ready, and that almost killed me, I almost left. Then there was this thing that she liked, throwing handfuls of marbles on the parquetry. I never got it. I asked her to pour me another glass of Gin. If that was to go on, I had to drink myself into oblivion. To be fair to the girl, she also did this thing with the feather... That was inspired.

I'm not sure what happened next, but I feel like it wasn't so bad after all. I did wake up to the horrific illusion of still being trapped in the pub. First thing I saw when I opened my eyes, was a dirty porcelain doll, legs wide open, resting on a wooden chest, next to an elephant on wheels.

Inside the Belly of the Architect

With my morning coffee and the awkward conversation, I discovered I had slept with the Architect. She was a decorator. A DE-CO-RA-TOR. She had decorated all of them: The Black Rose Tavern, Frankenstein's, Jeckyll & Hyde's... When she went out, she was going home, and when she was going home, she went out. She was moving from one place to the other and was fixed to the same room. An incredible spectacle of space-warping was performed almost every day of her life. There was no distinction between outside and inside. She was living her life between two mirrors. Her name was Ananta. “Infinite”.