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Victorian Songlight: The Birthings of Magic & Mystery

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Kathy Martone

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“Shoulder to shoulder they sit quietly, gazing into the infinity of soul remembrance – an invisible net of breath and devotion generated by the lofty gesture of hundreds of trees arching their way to the sun.  “Eternity gives birth to her most recent legends here, you know,” Grandfather whispers.”

“Devoid of all light, the room is saturated with the anguish of Kate’s despair – a deep well of stormy emotions that seems to snake its descent into the soundless black void of the dark mother.  Down here, only silence can be heard, the heartbeat of Medusa herself.  Kate’s tears have dried on her cheeks, and she lies on her back, eyes open but unfocused as her ever-inquisitive mind desperately searches for answers.  Like the tongue of some prehistoric lizard, her brain extends itself into missiles of unfolding light, emissaries embarking on a journey of epic proportions.”

“Moments of peace. Moments of joy. Moments of love and light and laughter. That may be all we have this year, amidst the chaos and insanity of this world, and yet, and yet, we must take those moments where we can find them make them know them be them. It is at least better that way. Otherwise, we're just wallowing in the darkness, allowing the forces of chaos more power, allowing the insanity to create what is to come.”

“He was not good, and he was not mortal. The sooner she realised that, the better it would be for her. If Camilla was sunshine, he was the darkest of nights. And if she wasn't careful, his shadows would snuff out her light. If only for the fleeting chance to possess her warmth before destroying it.”

“Crno, sve je crno. Niodakle ne dopire nagoveštaj dana, a nema ni sijalica, ni sveća. Nema radosti, ni osmeha koji se nazire, niti najslabijeg odjeka smeha (...). Jedino što ječi su jauci i jadikovanje. Mrak se rasprostire i u njemu se muči sve što misli da mu se može suprotstaviti, stremeći ka nepreglednom ponoru ka kojem klizi. Ali, u nekom momentu, crno je počelo da se pomera. Nešto se u svoj toj tmuši trzalo i naprezalo, grčilo se i grizlo, a potom stalo da se nijansira – da postaje sve tamnijim, dok nije postalo previše tamno da bi se moglo razaznati.”

“Probdeo sam noć i sačekao da me sunce podseti da je u Beogradu podnošljivije, te i poželjnije živeti tokom noći. Lađa sa gradskog grba i dalje grabi ka dubinama ušća Save u Dunav, sa sve svojim građanima, neki skaču sa palube, neki tonu sa brodom, ali spokoj koji sati posle ponoći pružaju pomažu da se o tome misli nekom drugom prilikom, pa trećom, četvrtom i petom, dok prilika ne nestane. Mrak i muk i meandriranje sudbine svih svetova koje na krupnijem planu ništa ne menja. U tome sam uvek nalazio utehu kada bih, užljebljen u svakodnevicu, pomislio da je ma koji od mojih problema zbog nečega značajan.”