Saint Spirit by Quelli di ZEd
his hands. When it encircled among the braccias his/her docile bride, it whispered her to the ear:
"You are the queen, performance your role of supreme commander, uses your acuteness of spirit for vain render their efforts to make you appear inadequate, it uses the them same weapons to turn her to your advantage. Be friendly and kind, but maintain you in the same instant detached and haughty; these are the best ingredients to manage the high society! Assuming a frowning expression of boredom in the respects of the arrogant you will enact your sure victory on that annoying interlocutors, that will appear awkward and stupid to the themselves eyes."
It changed. The suggestions of its man and its unusual intelligence put an end to the frustration had been inducing for those worldly times. Once drawn out, its fingernails became the sharpest and the more feared in all the respectable living rooms of the new aristocracy. Of those important evenings of galà the countess Dafne Monteghini became the undisputed queen, crowned by his/her usual expression from "excess and boredom", typical insignia of his/her rank. Among his/her guests she always distinguished him to be the tigress, colei that with acute looseness he/she knew how to criticize that full bignès of money, he/she knew how to find the defect, an any yielding in each of them, for sferrare his/her attack and vivacizzare the saloon with the echo of the laughs of those people that you/they at that time had escaped the prickly pun, and of the unlucky person to which the stab was touched and that, not to give the impression to the gentlemen and the present ladies to have been stricken in the alive one - thing that would rather have been of bad taste, since an individual of the superior sphere of the society had as before quality the being always detached and unassailable from everything - you/he/she laughed so strongly to cover all the others with his to bluster that reached, to lines, especially in the dames, the typical hysterical rice of the desperation.
To the conclusion of an evening in which she had been worthy of the most scheming living room of the Tolomeis, Dafne you/he/she was still strutting himself/herself/itself proud of his/her performance with his/her companion, when this last admonished him with a tone of false reproach.
"My dear, bushels becoming worse and astute than Lucrezia Borgia, I start to also fear for myself."
And her, him smiling and making him the purrs as a tigress that he fakes cat:
"My beloved, my powerful person Emperor, what effects with the others I have learned him in toto from your boldness in to manage the world and you/he/she can never twist him against you, six you that you establish the laws of this abode."
And him, protecting ahead her a look that tried to perforate her body to read her soul, it said:
"My sharp jewel, yours to say almost seems me a game of words. Max Stirner said that "the wish of the dominator is law. To that they serve you your laws if nobody observes her, to that they serve you your commands if nobody performs them?""
You immediately assumed a wounded air.
"When I have ever contradicted publicly you?"
"You never meet yourself with me, you are more cunning, you trick me mellifluous and everything goes according to your plans."
"Oh no, Charles, this cannot tell him/it of certain! What I push for my ideas because sometimes holds her more consistent to one determined situation, this yes, but that always do him as me I say, is not quite true! You are the man, the strength in our duality, and I cannot absolutely win you because, as Stirner says, "strength precedes the right.""
He smiled at her, fierce to have such a perspicacious damsel to his/her side, and it confirmed her:
"Yes, it precedes the right. but, my very beautiful devoted, reach your purposes you never cross a right path, always proceed of sbieco and precede me!"
III
Dafne, the famous evening before the plan that would have changed her life, it didn't have the suit control on itself. It was all in his/her heartbeat, bellows and ears they were only passive boxes of resonance for the greatness of that ancestral hits that you/they originated from her breast. She was incredulously subdued to that emotional ocean that invested her/it; even his/her ways, always exaggeratedly artificial and measuredly staid, they rippled him, they were made tortuous and they cracked his usual crystalline vocalità. Words pronounced too strongly stumbled before just on those said, you stammer and trembling. Lost his/her rational faculties, abandoned the worldliness of his/her living room frequented from "intoxicated penguins impaled by the themselves tuxedo, full of money up to the hole of the culo, so much that the merda has been forced to put her/it to him in head. and those damsels made up that they fake to be, in front of their maritinis, white timorous colombine, and that in them absence they devour cazzi with the same speed that has in the spender money!". Just these were the exclamations that went out her of mouth dismissing himself/herself/itself from that crew of idiots. Fortunately his/her butler had the adroitness to close before not the heavy door of the corridor, however, to have bumped volutamente a pyramid of wine glasses in crystal that shattered him on the floor with a spine-chilling boato that invested the room of the guests in the hope that this covered her exclamations of his/her lady.
In his/her bed to canopy the woman quivered to the idea to wake up him and to find himself/herself/themselves put make up on as you/he/she had been him/it the enchanting Cleopatra VII in his/her mausoleum, tidied up in the same way of the faraonis Egyptians. Only that the beautiful queen had not had the same fortune that to her you/he/she would have been up to, of rimirar with what luxury and charm you/he/she would be introduced to the presence of the Death. And then its actual condition was surely better than that in which Cleopatra poured just before to die, killed him together with his/her two slaves, Iras and Carmion, through the bite of a poisonous snake. The splendid queen had run into the death after the defeat of his/her last love, Anthony, after the death of his/her/their children, and after a breve but devastating period of imprisonment near the emperor Ottaviano. It had a quiver to consider to the fate of the divine queen which her so much was inspired. Thousand times you/he/she had relived the play of Cleopatra immedesimandosi in that historical and legendary figure at the same time. You imagined for the nth time the breast of the more aspired lover of the antiquity, covered by the wounds inflicted him of his/her hand for the desperation caused by the death of Anthony. Ottaviano had seen her stretched out on a modest pagliericcio, with the ruffled hair, overpowered by the scorching fever sews together for the infections of those wounds. oh, poor invincible woman, had happened her there that any to be female was able not to see how the worse one I incubate!
His/her doctor had assured that the artist of the morgue would have been put to the current one to owe only her to dress and to put make up on, using only artifices that didn't absolutely notch the inside of his/her body and the respiratory streets. In that bed Dafne realized that you/he/she would totally be found naked and not conscious in the hands of an extraneous that would have touched her, you/he/she would have been able to look him under every angling without brakes neither inhibitions. That thought made her/it blush as a child to the first interrogation to school, but then a hot flash of heat freed him from its abdomen. It started to touch, as it didn't do from perhaps ten years.
Saint staggered as soon as on the knees it took back conscience of itself. From his/her position in knee, repurchasing the clear use of the sight, him the usual enormous wall of books protected ahead him that entirely covered one of the four sides of its studio apartment. On the right it saw his/her electronic posting again, the free sheets, shed on the floor, open books on batteries of other books from the gloomy headings, in Latin, German, Jewish, dressed again of worn-out skin and consumed, of ancient dating a great deal. For an instant Saint was surprised when it noticed the pentacolo of bluish light that surrounded him/it; then plain pian remembered everything. It got up to work from that unnatural position. Its body had perhaps been times planted there, inanimate and rigid as a bronze statue as a dead body. During those circumstances he totally lost the human conception of the time,
it became Spirit, able to go wherever. Saint was what the ancient ones you/they would have defined a wizard. That numerous years passed in voluntary exile by the rest of the human beings, you/they had brought him to increase immensely his to know on the hidden one and his/her ability of concentration for the realization of magics that, by now they had, of big long overcome the classical trucchettis that the common beings usually call "magics."
The art that more it loved and that at the same more time it it was the ability to separate his/her Spirit from the body and to make him/it hover through the sacred tides of the Unio Mystica, where the time, the space, the dimensions and the past, present and future people remixed him, filling whatever distance could intervene among them and demolishing any logical wall that would inevitably have separated them. It was everything to course of hand, united together, but at the same time every monade of that everything was fully autonomous and independent. Saint was perfectly aware of the extreme dangerousness of that astral trips, the risk to lose in the endless one and not to succeed in returning back anymore was extremely concrete. Of however he was lavished in that
"You are the queen, performance your role of supreme commander, uses your acuteness of spirit for vain render their efforts to make you appear inadequate, it uses the them same weapons to turn her to your advantage. Be friendly and kind, but maintain you in the same instant detached and haughty; these are the best ingredients to manage the high society! Assuming a frowning expression of boredom in the respects of the arrogant you will enact your sure victory on that annoying interlocutors, that will appear awkward and stupid to the themselves eyes."
It changed. The suggestions of its man and its unusual intelligence put an end to the frustration had been inducing for those worldly times. Once drawn out, its fingernails became the sharpest and the more feared in all the respectable living rooms of the new aristocracy. Of those important evenings of galà the countess Dafne Monteghini became the undisputed queen, crowned by his/her usual expression from "excess and boredom", typical insignia of his/her rank. Among his/her guests she always distinguished him to be the tigress, colei that with acute looseness he/she knew how to criticize that full bignès of money, he/she knew how to find the defect, an any yielding in each of them, for sferrare his/her attack and vivacizzare the saloon with the echo of the laughs of those people that you/they at that time had escaped the prickly pun, and of the unlucky person to which the stab was touched and that, not to give the impression to the gentlemen and the present ladies to have been stricken in the alive one - thing that would rather have been of bad taste, since an individual of the superior sphere of the society had as before quality the being always detached and unassailable from everything - you/he/she laughed so strongly to cover all the others with his to bluster that reached, to lines, especially in the dames, the typical hysterical rice of the desperation.
To the conclusion of an evening in which she had been worthy of the most scheming living room of the Tolomeis, Dafne you/he/she was still strutting himself/herself/itself proud of his/her performance with his/her companion, when this last admonished him with a tone of false reproach.
"My dear, bushels becoming worse and astute than Lucrezia Borgia, I start to also fear for myself."
And her, him smiling and making him the purrs as a tigress that he fakes cat:
"My beloved, my powerful person Emperor, what effects with the others I have learned him in toto from your boldness in to manage the world and you/he/she can never twist him against you, six you that you establish the laws of this abode."
And him, protecting ahead her a look that tried to perforate her body to read her soul, it said:
"My sharp jewel, yours to say almost seems me a game of words. Max Stirner said that "the wish of the dominator is law. To that they serve you your laws if nobody observes her, to that they serve you your commands if nobody performs them?""
You immediately assumed a wounded air.
"When I have ever contradicted publicly you?"
"You never meet yourself with me, you are more cunning, you trick me mellifluous and everything goes according to your plans."
"Oh no, Charles, this cannot tell him/it of certain! What I push for my ideas because sometimes holds her more consistent to one determined situation, this yes, but that always do him as me I say, is not quite true! You are the man, the strength in our duality, and I cannot absolutely win you because, as Stirner says, "strength precedes the right.""
He smiled at her, fierce to have such a perspicacious damsel to his/her side, and it confirmed her:
"Yes, it precedes the right. but, my very beautiful devoted, reach your purposes you never cross a right path, always proceed of sbieco and precede me!"
III
Dafne, the famous evening before the plan that would have changed her life, it didn't have the suit control on itself. It was all in his/her heartbeat, bellows and ears they were only passive boxes of resonance for the greatness of that ancestral hits that you/they originated from her breast. She was incredulously subdued to that emotional ocean that invested her/it; even his/her ways, always exaggeratedly artificial and measuredly staid, they rippled him, they were made tortuous and they cracked his usual crystalline vocalità. Words pronounced too strongly stumbled before just on those said, you stammer and trembling. Lost his/her rational faculties, abandoned the worldliness of his/her living room frequented from "intoxicated penguins impaled by the themselves tuxedo, full of money up to the hole of the culo, so much that the merda has been forced to put her/it to him in head. and those damsels made up that they fake to be, in front of their maritinis, white timorous colombine, and that in them absence they devour cazzi with the same speed that has in the spender money!". Just these were the exclamations that went out her of mouth dismissing himself/herself/itself from that crew of idiots. Fortunately his/her butler had the adroitness to close before not the heavy door of the corridor, however, to have bumped volutamente a pyramid of wine glasses in crystal that shattered him on the floor with a spine-chilling boato that invested the room of the guests in the hope that this covered her exclamations of his/her lady.
In his/her bed to canopy the woman quivered to the idea to wake up him and to find himself/herself/themselves put make up on as you/he/she had been him/it the enchanting Cleopatra VII in his/her mausoleum, tidied up in the same way of the faraonis Egyptians. Only that the beautiful queen had not had the same fortune that to her you/he/she would have been up to, of rimirar with what luxury and charm you/he/she would be introduced to the presence of the Death. And then its actual condition was surely better than that in which Cleopatra poured just before to die, killed him together with his/her two slaves, Iras and Carmion, through the bite of a poisonous snake. The splendid queen had run into the death after the defeat of his/her last love, Anthony, after the death of his/her/their children, and after a breve but devastating period of imprisonment near the emperor Ottaviano. It had a quiver to consider to the fate of the divine queen which her so much was inspired. Thousand times you/he/she had relived the play of Cleopatra immedesimandosi in that historical and legendary figure at the same time. You imagined for the nth time the breast of the more aspired lover of the antiquity, covered by the wounds inflicted him of his/her hand for the desperation caused by the death of Anthony. Ottaviano had seen her stretched out on a modest pagliericcio, with the ruffled hair, overpowered by the scorching fever sews together for the infections of those wounds. oh, poor invincible woman, had happened her there that any to be female was able not to see how the worse one I incubate!
His/her doctor had assured that the artist of the morgue would have been put to the current one to owe only her to dress and to put make up on, using only artifices that didn't absolutely notch the inside of his/her body and the respiratory streets. In that bed Dafne realized that you/he/she would totally be found naked and not conscious in the hands of an extraneous that would have touched her, you/he/she would have been able to look him under every angling without brakes neither inhibitions. That thought made her/it blush as a child to the first interrogation to school, but then a hot flash of heat freed him from its abdomen. It started to touch, as it didn't do from perhaps ten years.
Saint staggered as soon as on the knees it took back conscience of itself. From his/her position in knee, repurchasing the clear use of the sight, him the usual enormous wall of books protected ahead him that entirely covered one of the four sides of its studio apartment. On the right it saw his/her electronic posting again, the free sheets, shed on the floor, open books on batteries of other books from the gloomy headings, in Latin, German, Jewish, dressed again of worn-out skin and consumed, of ancient dating a great deal. For an instant Saint was surprised when it noticed the pentacolo of bluish light that surrounded him/it; then plain pian remembered everything. It got up to work from that unnatural position. Its body had perhaps been times planted there, inanimate and rigid as a bronze statue as a dead body. During those circumstances he totally lost the human conception of the time,
The art that more it loved and that at the same more time it it was the ability to separate his/her Spirit from the body and to make him/it hover through the sacred tides of the Unio Mystica, where the time, the space, the dimensions and the past, present and future people remixed him, filling whatever distance could intervene among them and demolishing any logical wall that would inevitably have separated them. It was everything to course of hand, united together, but at the same time every monade of that everything was fully autonomous and independent. Saint was perfectly aware of the extreme dangerousness of that astral trips, the risk to lose in the endless one and not to succeed in returning back anymore was extremely concrete. Of however he was lavished in that