Friday, August 10, 2007

passage 1

In the granite castle Adest dozed uneasily, one hand still clutched around his cooling dick, sweating the drink out his pores, his hair poking him in the mouth. In that nebulous place halfway between waking and sleeping, notions tumbled and merged, grand declarations founded upon nothing materialized, words disengaged from their subjects. Unknown people faded in and away, familiar faces didn’t acknowledge his presence, and the castle had grown metal spars that pinned ideas in place like mounted butterflies. Silhouettes of physically impossible machines, sculpted, dark and spiky, came dragged by shadow men, set into position to kill dreams of ideas, or ideas of dreams.

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