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LITERARY STYLE INSPIRATION: THE MAGIC MOUNTAIN

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ROLLING WITH JAMES JOYCE ON AN IRISH HILL

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ODE TO THE BOOKISH GIRLS

The stars/The one

the stars/the one fell in loveShop the dream

You are the stars/the one

***

Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard

Are sweeter;

Ode on a Grecian Urn, J. Keats.

I was floating amid water lilies again last night darling.

You see, nothing had worked all day. I had gone and sat on the fire escape of that New York apartment, I had prayed amid bones and visited Algis but I still felt unsettled. I wanted to watch the stars by myself and where else would I have done so but in the darkness of my garden?

I stepped in the body numbing, cold water of the pond. The stars were bright and protruding amid the darkness and the light of the moon lit the creamy lilies moving around me. I could not relax as I was used to doing; I kept struggling to keep my face above water and my floral dress floating up around me unnerved me. I was afraid even the pond would not bear a safe niche when I felt strong hands lifting me above water.

It was him of course, the one I had let go of; the one I had mourned when I went to visit Algis. We did not say anything; I knew he would not be around for long. He held on to me, while I let go and looked up to watch the stars, as his thick beard skimmed the back of my head.

The world fell quiet. The small waves hushed and the water lilies took to one corner of the pond. Only the stars that came from another world, another time, made a sound, as they scorched the sky with their light, while the moon seemed to be moving further away from the village.

He is the only one who can make me forget about the light of the moon.

Story credits: Image via Vivienne B.

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