The Witch

The Witch

54.

After a moon phase, an answer arrived that afternoon from Venice, from Galileo the red haired:
Yes, it is true indeed: I have given up my learning. Write to me no more. I am already blind, for I have seen too much light. My lenses shall see for me, those that I have used to decrease the size, and therefore I suffer from the power, which is great and does not want to be diminished. I have decreased the big: that is my sin. But decreasing the big, I have shown the invisible: God. God is not invisible because he is small, but because he is big and he is found in everything, even in the smallest dust bit. This is something the power does not want to understand.
Good-bye my dear padre, good-bye.
Your Galileo Galilei, astronomer and God’s interpreter.

***
E-mail, 20 August 2005, 20:44
From: papa@yahoo.com
To: redhairedchild@yahoo.com

I have a new address. My name is Papa. You remember, don’t you, what you once told me on the river bank? That you don’t care what my name was and that the only thing that I should remember for our next encounter is the name that you gave me: Papa! That you’ll find me rather than I find you, even after centuries, if I only remembered this name!
Remember, please remember! Everything is the same: the chemistry, pre-flesh, blood and saliva. You are my spiritual and corporal blessing, my pre-shape, pre-fatherland. Let your atoms remember how we loved each other, with our palms and pupils open, in mills and barns, under the sky and on the ground, under the stars and fireflies.
Remember my dear our summer with bare feet and naked hearts: three thunders, three rainbows. Let us sleep in this short moment that is called eternity until death awakens us.
Tomorrow you shall die, my dear. And I with you, in your fiery shadow, I shall die too. I shall burn in a shining death, so that I wake up with you again in a new birth, In reality.

E-mail, 20 August 2005, 20:50
From: redhairedchild@yahoo.com
To: papa@yahoo.com


It was about time you woke up. If you don’t wake up, you’ll finish in a madhouse or a prison. For I will report you to the police; my friend was right: this has gone too far. A murder threat! I only want you not to executive her. I know where this is going to: you’re getting ready to burn her at the stake. Don’t send me parts of the end of the novel as attachments any more, if you don’t send me parts form the beginning. Don’t be perverse and bastard!


E-mail, 20 August 2005, 20:53
From: papa@yahoo.com
To: redhairedchild@yahoo.com

Wow, wow. You’re so mad! Mentioning the police, as a way of an outcome of a novel! This is no Agatha Christie, this is no “Murder at the Orient Express”! You’re pissed, I can see you. As if made by Doctor Oetker from vanilla sugar.

E-mail, 20 August 2005, 21:03
From: redhairedchild@yahoo.com
To: papa@yahoo.com

Switch off, stop! I’m in a hurry. I’m going out, I’ll finally press “block the message”!

E-mail, 20 August 2005, 22:03
From: redhairedchild@yahoo.
To: papa@yahoo.com

Where have you been for a whole hour?

E-mail, 20 August 2005, 22:07
From: papa@yahoo.com
To: redhairedchild@yahoo.com

Haven’t you pressed “block the message”? I was busy: wording your death.

E-mail, 20 August 2005, 22:09
From: redhairedchild@yahoo.com
To: papa@yahoo.com

Well, it’s enough! Now I’ll really block you. By noon tomorrow. I’m going out with a real guy now: made of flesh and blood rather than paper and ink, as you would say.

E-mail, 20 August 2005, 22:11
From: papa@yahoo.com
To: redhairedchild@yahoo.com

Just try. I’ll strangle you.

Delivery failed. The message has been blocked by the recipient.

2018-08-21T17:23:03+00:00 May 10th, 2008|Categories: Prose, Literature, Blesok no. 59|0 Comments