WINDS WERE BEAUTIFUL

“...love is dangerous” said

Rosemarine, the wife of the famous po-

warrior Boe an Fop’h. They say she came from the island of lanista on

the Sea of Saints, a young
whore on a ruby ship. “In compensation for a wound, a

child sometimes is born” she added

...she was gently diluting yogurt with spring water. “Will you have

some with me?” she asked me. “I am fasting” I told her. She

smiled. “Then you should go to the desert, where there are

fewer temptations. You could visit Tsyopa Maga. They

say he needs a cheap laptop for his

giant clepsydra.

-What is a clepsydra? I asked.

-A water clock.

-In the desert?

-Well, it is a huge water reservoir…

-But the Maga is a wizard. He can conjure water up…

-Yes, but he doesn’t drink water anyway.

-So, why the clock?

-You should go ask him.”

...they say the Maga lives deep in the Electric desert. His

surroundings are guarded by ostrich-like creatures, but with a

long beak made of steel, who will attack you unless you

wear a blue cherry hat

“…they say there are two women there, with him, at

this moment” told me Rosemarine. “One is the Jamahara girl. She

is a wizard too, albeit a funny one, I hear. The other girl is the
daughter of an important man, the mayor of the Iron Door.

-Well, I said, I do have an old

laptop that I could get rid of…

-My husband can take you there with the balloon, if the winds
are good, unless you are
afraid of heights…

-I am, but I will go.

-Very well” said Rosemarine.

…later she told me again that the way to love is

dangerous. Pirates on the sea. Sirens who prey on fools, on the

weak, the unlucky. “Ulysses’ crew didn’t make it
through the selection process, she explained.

-What do you mean? I asked. The hero already had a son, so his tale

wasn’t exactly about Darwinism…

-Of course not, said Rosemarine. His tale is that of an ordinary man, but

one strong and clever enough to fight his way back to a higher form of

love.

-True love?

-We shall speak about that when you return from the desert, my

friend.” That was my last conversation with her. The winds were beautiful, so

Boe an Fop’h and I left on the next morning

::: ::: :::

[Picture: Aerial view by reading_is_dangerous]