- Vol. 03
- Chapter 03
I’ll dive in.
“What’s in there?”
“The perpetual sleep of a hundred fallen saints, my dear boy, my dear, foolish boy.”
All the same…
“We ascend towards the sun, not back into the muck, mire, murky space where earth and water meet and intermingle, mother and father to a bastard child…”
“You mean me?”
“Man is the bastard to be overcome.”
“And what of woman?”
“Ex nihilo, my boy.”
The tohu wa-bohu writhes under the agony of having been forgotten, swelling up as though ready to meet the boy halfway – to
embrace him in his
I am a child.
“Do not long to return to the womb, my child.”
I must dive in.
In a burst of mortality, recalling his body to himself, the boy allows his limbs to be interpreted as historical, corporeal entities.
I’ll dive in, he says to himself.
In the background, the clay pigeon priests pontificate, “Beyond Being, the son and father need neither wife nor mother; no corrupted body with its desires for food and sex…”
I’ll dive in. I’m a child. I’m a body. I’ve a mother. I’ve a perfectly good set of arms and legs, built for jumping. Why should I forget them?
A bed is made; a warmth warmer than the summer sun envelopes the muddy, weedy, fishy sheets, decorated with patterns of foreign, underwater plants.
Yes, I’ll dive in. Yes.