It’s not easy to become a shepherd and perhaps, among all I had already managed to learn were it because of need, were it out of pure curiosity, it had proved the most difficult of all. You need years to get there, when you have to compose a song of your own having necessarily to please at least someone.
After having learned about herbs and animals, illnesses and how to heal them, you have to find a way to heal an animal nobody knew of before. You have to know what to do with products, steal secrets, keep secrets, establish fair relationship with other shepherds, keep your territory intelligently enough (I had managed to convince Halil of the fact that he was invading my territory, although he was keeping Madimlis, a villager’s goats, thing he had to pay for with many other receipts and secrets and services) and at the end, when you save lambs that have staid in a mother’s belly that has lost the water (?), were it with the indefinite help of the goat master Gianis, a neighbour, you’re allowed to sing a song.
Shepherds usually don’t talk to those who keep goats because they are thought of lower class, the ‘go easy’ family without too much brain. While digging out secrets and traditions that had been buried in memory, we had decided to introduce a few changes, were it only because Tula, the grand master, had so radically separated goats from sheep that the ‘evil’ looked really at the edges of death every day she got angry and the ‘good’ had become so ethereal that they seemed to touch heavens with their fingers. We decided thus to form a tribe apart: not having a specific name it grouped all sorts of lonely shepherds and goat owners of the whereabouts.
I had learned to speak the sheep’s language and even goat’s, I said. Although a woolf came and ate up one of a carelessly strolling around smaller sheep. Stars were falling from heaven and left long silver lines upon the darkness.
When time had come to make up a song, my sheep showed the smallest mortality percentage on lambs (1 out of twenty at birth, the highest risk moment) and a 4.2 fat on one kilo milk. The best of the region.
My song allowed then to obtain a ‘krana’, a stock made of special wood, a very hard, rare wood you had to burn for it to loose humidity and be kept in time. I had so very well convinced Giannis of the fact that goat owners belonged to a second rank, that he was the one who listened to my song and he went then to find my stock.
My song was no marvel and not very long but it was already quite beautiful. It said: “Exo enan pono stin psuxi kai den ksero pos tha bgei, Exo enan pono stin psuxi kai den ksero pios tha to pi.” (There is such pain in my soul I don’t how it will leave, There is such pain in my soul and I don’t know who’ll give it words.) I had even found the music for it without copying.
(It was the day the laboratory results arrived from Serres, even Madimlis, who had around 700 goats, gave in to the evidence: goats don’t give more that a 2% fat on a kilo milk and even if a goat produces up to 3 kilo milk a day while sheep produce 1, obviously, my sheep allowed to get more cheese. That gives more money on sales. If you know how to make it.)
You even had to learn to kill a lamb and how to dry up skins.
The day Giannis brought the ‘krana’ I knew I had become chief of shepherds of my aleatory tribe and went to burn the stock. It was that day I discovered something was going wrong with my eye. I didn’t see the fire leaving to my right and when I did, it was far too late. Perhaps I just wanted to tell firemen I had just obtained my title and in any case, I went to Turkey in order to get the chemistry to heal fire injuries traditionally and not known in Greece and brought in back. Should they be duely rewarded for their effort to switch off the fire that almost reached the village because of an unlucky wind.
Shepherds know to read signs, too. In fact, it is incredible how many things they know. Of all, perhaps the most difficult thing to learn inside of the already not easy process was a secret only Tzarakatzan mastered and which had already almost disappeared: the use of passive psychopathetic lines in order to tele guide someone of the family who was in highest danger. Those, the ones who knew this secret were called ‘tselingas’ and upper chiefs of tribe. I knew it was like that as Tula had tele guided me through Skopje until I found ‘her’ mountain but it seemed quite difficult to copy the logic.
I saw a sheep while walking down to David’s Tower and knew it had died, thing I was confirmed after. It was my father’s sheep, Joel: my inheritance, I had said, while asking him then to contribute to the acquisition of a small herd. “Have even learned the notion of sacrifice,” I thought then, “and there must be heavens for sheep, too, here, among the notes of my song.” Sheep don’t leave the earth. They stay somewhere between you and your soul, when they die. Sheep may give away their soul for others and thus it seemed as if they knew my father would die and then, wouldn’t die finally.
It’s true that shepherds are not allowed to leave their sheep, but already then when I was learning even about songs in order to be ready that day to come in the far future, I had told them a song about a shepherd who had to leave to town and even if I didn’t want to leave anymore at the end, they didn’t make lambs that year. The only reason a shepherd is allowed to leave his sheep for is to revenge his sheep and they had decided so. On top, before the herd was made, it had been said that a strange phenomenon in time would happen at the end, and only very specific lambs were allowed to participate to the adventure of teaching a human what a sheep was.
Sofonias did even understand its name and there were many sheep laughing around the world because they said there was a sheep that had fallen in love with a human.
That day, leopard had come.
Submit, you people.
Even Li had submitted to a higher God. Image is to wisdom what the Emperor is to the wisdom of the people that is said in Shaolin. If the Emperor makes a prophecy mislead by Shaolin who is leaning on foreign wisdom, China dies. Until it understands why.
Two monks are walking behind the Emperor because they come before.
Li had submitted to Identity in the image given to the wisdom of his people.
Tula, we’ve managed to reach our goal. China is alive. They can master now the movements of their soul and if they decide to say their anger, they will in wisdom that will still astonish the world. Tula’s 200 million soldiers were carefully put under the Emperor’s command. How angry they must have been. Because they were saying it through the realms of death.
“For what is of me, I can’t see any other God,” Li had said. “There you are, that even without seeing you submit to it.”
Li was a business man, officially and I, I was writing a book.
Leopard was laughing as usual and I told him he should stop laughing as it was a very serious day: I had rather understood everything. He sat down to learn about it all, although he was not sitting there beside.
“Look at this,” I said. “I was given poison that should poison my liver by German hands. Accidentally I was given another poison by French hands that healed the first poison and distroyed neurons and this was healed by the milk of sheep that have eaten the herb’s milk. Now. Yesterday there was another accident, and the one who had planed my death, died. The German one. The one in Skopje.
See. I didn’t plan anything. I just went somewhere and probably caught someone’s attention who made an investigation and discovered something was wrong and the other ran away and was shot, while (I continued) trying to escape a bullett. That’s what it looks like. The liver is healed when the accident becomes essential. Her death was essential to me: and through an accident I’m participating to, she dies. The liver gets healed when the accident is essential.
In order to have the accident become essential, your neurons must be bombed up, as such twist in thought is difficult to obtain with healthy neurons. While your liver is repaired, you live in a world where the accident is essential, in a fairy tale that is somehow linked to reality. Why does the milk of the herb (galakschida) eaten up by sheep, finish by healing your neurons?”
And leopard said that the three has become one because your body is powder and milk is your soul.
More or less, I said a little bit puzzled, yes, I mean, in my language I would say it otherwise.
If the black magic has three elements, then you can say, that f towards f with m in the middle, is given an image in f (poisoned liver) towards f (poisoned neurons) in the transfer of m to the body that is the image and innocence in soul that heals a logic, as logic is not of body but of soul. The milk inside of this is the logic allowing to get out of the magics and a healed soul, heals the body.
How do you heal yourself? I have to do something with my hands that affirms an identity saying the pain of my soul. I am then in the world as I’m and this, as it is identity, cuts the lines that are linking me to others in an ill logic.
“You have a great master,” Leopard said, “the one who has made dust of your body.”
We didn’t know why our pain was many’s pain, but it was like that and had to be said like that. Hannah didn’t know what her task was. Her job: what she had to do with her hands.
Diligently participating to the conversation was Elvia, who said, yes, and these people speak quichua because v in A and f in B thus v* in A and v in B = v. I turned my eyes and said, “That’s what killed Hannah, and I will have a look at it after. Can I come to see you?” And she said, yes.
“Your task, Hannah, is to get back home.” (If I find the murder, first, I didn’t say, but otherwise you’ll be killed again.)
I decided that I had already enough for the third part of my novel and that I wouldn’t include Hannah’s story inside of it but would refer to it in a fourth part I had just made up, because, I said: “It’s like Harry Potter and at the end people can’t get enough of it.” Actually the third part intended only to distroy the black magic inside of a general image including a possible conquest of Jerusalem by Pakistani and although it was true that the conquest was becoming more than real according to reactions as I could perceive them, (people can’t live without fairy tales, really), there must be given a space to close the circle and this would include many other stories. Actually, the revenge of the Queen of Sabah should walk down to ‘Firework in Amaretto’ whose inconsistency had already become obvious and this would oblige me to make many arrangements. On top, there was the whole story of Elvia and quichua, too, and Ecuador and the song and there was simply no space left in the third part.
I was very proud of Tula. “While fighting against the illness, those who say the illness become enemies who you fight against and when they die, you’re healed.”
In fact I was very proud of Sask, too, although I had finally concluded that the bomb was really much more dangerous than I had thought of first. The first bomb must have had a system of absorption of atomic energy that finished by exploding in such wicked ways that it may cause the death of millions.
It happens when you build up imaginary Sasks that your ideal finishes by looking as reliable as the real one.
Imagine you have a crossed black magic forming a knot among people in a triple logic. It goes sometimes from Spain to Russia, from France to Israel, from China to Greece, or from China to Russia, from France to Spain, etc. Giving the feeling of essential relationships (we all became Muslims after a while or said, in fact, the only difference between a Muslim and a Christian is that the Muslim takes for wifes at a time and the Christian one after the other) it had simply no moral justification at all and was bombing up the foundation of the stability of relationships in time.
In 1996 I submitted the gang to the absolute need of doing as if one and only was the essential one and fight against all attempt shifts may occur. As this was rather not possible such as things were, actually I quite precarious balance was built up: Li was married to a mirror image of Ines de la Fressange, I was married to an ideal Sask and was keeping Natasha while Hannah found her task, and Tula, who staid alone, was finally married to Heleni, who was found a few years later.
It didn’t matter who was who, as actually nobody would get married to anyone, and the couple m to f were kept because of Hannah’s intelligent idea to associate the third element to oneself. Thus Hannah was the ‘x’ in between, too, a very heroic and courageous male. I had adopted her solution while keeping a slight difference: my ‘x’ was my body and appearance, while I was neutrally staying in thought. Just in case. Sask and Ines de la Fressange got married to an ‘x’, and Li was x hold by lines in wings m m, shaolin. As Natasha only saw horrible male shadows all over, an ‘x’ appearing in whatever smelled man, she couldn’t even stand Hannah and I built a cover in a false Hannah who wasn’t such a brute anymore, who was Natasha’s x, very far away.
Actually (Leopard looked in surprise at my scheme), it’s generating an erotic tension in ff and mm lines. Exact, that’s what seems to be happening, final reason for Lazares’ coming back from death, perhaps.
“And thus,” Leopard continued, “there are two realities. Sask is not the real Sask but it’s true because it’s moving as logic and thus for Hannah and for all of you. And how do you know in these poles who is the male and who the female?” “Precisely, I don’t know yet. For the time being it’s moving from one to the other depending on needs.”
“Yes. We’ll see. If Sask is married, the element that is there is attracting an enormous disgrace. It is covered by Sask’s reliability, is in fact furious and is the one who has covered Federman’s presence here. The second part of the bomb is possibly causing a most general disaster.” “And this?” “Because Sask is not moving in ff lines but in mm lines. My mistake. Will have to play the homosexual man now, such fun.”
And I turned my head and laughed and said: “It’s always your fault, universally. Whatever happens.”
If souls moves in wings, it had been not been given permission yet for the wings to generate erotic tension. There are two wings to each side and the middle covered by two wings, too. Six wings. The wings to the right are good and those to the left, are bad. (The good and the bad thieves.) As the wings have no erotic tension they convert sexual impulses into a path, a teaching, an object saying what is of love in spiritual realms because for them, it is not attached to flesh. And this should bring back the Grand master.
But the bad wings get tempted by flesh and the human looses inner finality. What happens if they enter the good wings the day they’ll stay without resources? We loose erotic tension. We’ve lost our path. And what happens if the bad wings are inside of the good wings without wings in the middle? It makes a horrible bomb. An image of the end of the world.”
“You very much love the end of the world,” Leopard said. “It’s just an image,” I answered, “and there are two of them.” “And how are you going to avoid the first one,” Leopard asked, “as, may I add, this is rather not an image for me?” “Well. She’ll have to get a divorce, with or without scandal. And then you have to push Leya into the other side.” “Ah,” Leopard continued, “because she’s a boy.” “A geysha?” “I don’t know.” “Well, yes, something like that. She will change the nature of the bomb, and the second part is not going to be poisoned anymore but, well, I don’t know, I wouldn’t say specifically innocent, but at least not that dangerous.” “And why would she be wanting to change such a dangerous bomb for a less dangerous one?” “Because this bomb may explode in interaction with salt or cadmium every day in her own nose. That’s why.” “With France?” “Yes. And there is salt already.”
“And Federman?” The fiscal interfered in the conversation without anyone’s permission. “Federman is dead. The German x is dead. If Sask changes Rafael for Leya, she looses all lines of contact. Easily: Sask is army, Leya belongs to the underworld. Both together will take over the state, as police has been bought up by Federman.” “A coup d’Etat?” “Yes… I mean, nobody will ever give that name to it. Factually, a coup d’Etat.” And I continued: “There is no legal interaction between Sask and Leya possible, thus Sask will not cover anyone. Leya will stay in the underworld and Sask will continue her bomb.” “You mean that the fact of getting married to someone whithout love is ‘illegal’?” “Yes. From an absolute point of view. And the giving honor and respect to that is making that the underworld enters upper realms. And this is why Sask is building a bomb that is nothing but a most exact image of that horror you can admire from this window, too: 200 murders and all mafia of the world under one sole roof. A marriage without love is necrophilia, Solovjev had said.”
Leopard staid back: “The bomb is going to become a tactic bomb without danger for those who have it.” “Yes,” I said, “and you, you will fall in love.” He burst out laughing. “I won’t,” he said. “Don’t trust the devil.” “Because,” (he had gone lost in thoughts) they are together but they are not together and this stabilizes both parts of the bomb.”
“It won’t make her happy,” Leopard continued, much more interested in the love story than in the bomb. “No. But for the time being it avoids a disaster.” “You should take Leya’s place.” “I? Never in the world. Have not enough with what I have, to take care of this unbearable person on top.” “But you have a better bomb.” “We’re nice boys, Leopard, we will make business.” “Business?” “Yes, business is no love affair. I give you back your bomb if you make a war.” “A war?” “Yes. I need to give a positive end to my novel, otherwise it will really look as if I had made up everything.” “I don’t want to gossip, but Sask is really furious because you say you’re going to conquer Jerusalem and doesn’t trust you a second.” “Well, and what has my war to do with a conquest made by Pakistan?”
“It’s really a nice bomb,” Leopard said. “And why should she take it?” “Because it is the truth of what has happened inside of the possibility of a solution: ff lines (Moses) have gone fused with mm lines (Yoshue) and you have to put something in between in order to separate them. What you put in between is a war that moves inside of a six wings logic, a fact, a reality, and when you have a look at it, clearly you can see what there is and patterns of thought are ordered in separated wings.” “That is really wicked,” Leopard said. “You will win the war.” “She will win the war, say, if she listens to my advice.”
Sask asked whether she would win the war and Leopard said she would win the war if she followed my advice and gave the scheme of the bomb to her and answered to the question what the advice was, “This.” It looked evident enough to Sask, and she agreed.
(War of Gaza, January 2009.)
Finally even the fiscal agreed on that, that Leya really but really looked like a boy, too. “What means, too? Like Leopard?” “But we have a national betrayer who is happily running around without a possible intervention, and that will need of a few hours of meditation, too.” “In any case,” Gazit continued, “I wouldn’t mind a coup d’etat if things are like that and it clearly, really clearly shows it could lead to a solution this way.” The fiscal looked really happy that day and meant that an end would be put to the national betrayer by putting the one into prison because the owner of the hotel would warn when I would leave.
It was that day that Gazit made a comment to the fiscal, that looked like a complaint and said that their electronic communication was constantly cut by An. “What is An?” the fiscal said. “My anger,” I answered, and this really puzzled the fiscal.
“Your anger?” And she turned her head. “Yes. A town in France, Anger.”
Ha.
Why did Ribbentrop go to Israel? Because she had a cyrrosis and wanted to contact Federman and thus the OTM to get a new liver in Rumania. She had obtained her location through a list she had obtained from the Foundation Onassis. She must have left Skopje more or less the same time than me. She had a cyrrosis that had been provoked by constant invitations by the surrounding populations to drink slivo and she could always drink a few more than the others. In less than 10 years her liver was bombed up and she, not me, was searching for a new liver. ‘The way you kill, that way you die.’ (Urdu)
And she had to find a place to stay just getting to Ein Kareim?
That’s none of my concern, now. She had a cyrrosis and I was healed by an accident that killed her. And thus, you can bomb up France’s neurons just by following the same logic: because France has healed the liver and the killer is dead.
And for all who may have backed Ribbentrop’s intention, shall they die the same way or another.
And Gazit is complaining because there are interferences in electronic communications: neurons are nothing but electronic communications. How interesting.
I told Gazit that day that I may perhaps solve the problem. “But,” I continued, “They will close me into a psychiatric hospital if it works.” “Not in a prison?” “No. You can’t put someone into prison for an accident. But they are mad and they will say I made the accident and it is crazy, to provoke an accident, and thus I’m mad, – because they’re crazy, I mean.”
“You can?” the fiscal asked again without anyone’s permission. “I don’t know. It is possible. A mars woman who detects electronic signals, Minja’s intuitive logic of transfer to computer language, the structure of the accident that has been at the origin of Ribbentrop’s death … I. It should do it. … And I find the one who poisoned my neurons. Logically. More than logically. Anger is the central of French Intelligence. This chemistry was developped by French Intelligence. I know that it is there because the bastard who pretended he could ask me for a marriage (!), look at that, finished by telling me that his father had been an under cover agent in Africa, where he fished the worms from, probably, by the way, they lived in Anger and thus the one who has developped the chemistry must be in Angers, too. Le Figaro, sent in to Greece by Franck’s father, the brother of Gregory, every Tuesday and Thursday, published not so long ago, that a special monad for electronic crimes had been opened in Angers. The electronic headquarters of French Intelligence are in Angers.”
They are silly, I went on thinking. They are really silly. They have even published how the electronic system of defense of Legifrance works, in Le Figaro. In Le Figaro, look at that and saying: that even the most perfect system of defense (a regenerating system) will find someone who will break it. And that Dutch had already developped electronic subguns in order to try defeating it, without success, until then. A challenge I gave in to, and half an hour later, Legifrance did not exist anymore.
“Is this enough?” Gazit asked innocently. “No,” I went on, “you need a reverter. Nothing you bring, nothing you take away with you, nothing you construct then because all intervention will be considerated deliberate.” “Then?” “A stone. But don’t ask me too many questions, I won’t tell you all my secrets.” “Do you know about electronics?” “No. But we shepherds are very clever. I even have a ‘krana’,” I added very proudly as if this could be convincing enough.
I wasn’t searching for a cover and nobody would pay me again for such a peaceful intervention. I just needed someone who’d ask himself for a few months how it were possible a stone may put an end to the most powerful electronic system on earth.
Hm. Gazit asked for advice and a young man belonging to the electronic department was invited to the conversation, too, as if someone who had a ‘krana’ was reliable enough so as to move him to leave the headquarters for a while. Gazit who was the translator between the mars woman and the poor soldier who had never in his life been confronted to such an usual situation, asked whether I could give proves for my sayings and I said: “That this system has a warning system, so that if you change something on a text that has been copied of the web page, it provokes an attack on the hard disk. Le Figaro said. Well, a warning signal has a channel and then the attack happens through another channel. Probably a lazer control as it does not happen directly on the page or through it. Wouldn’t you say so? A warning signal has a channel and an attack signal has another channel. Now. You’re French. Just think for a little moment you are inside of a general logic that is able to poison someone’s neurons because, because it suspects it may have known too much of what happens inside of a hospital.
The channel that alerts and the channel of attack are the same. Because the suspicion has not been verified. If it is so and it must be so, what happens if you send another alert signal just while the attack is happening, by simply changing once again something you didn’t like on the simple word document? You’re sending 10 alerts signals and they are just sending one attack because the others have been blocked on the way up. Logically it’s going to push the attack back to the … hard disk. Where the regeneration system does not work anymore.
Black out. In shepherd’s language. When this will happen, are you going to believe a stone may destroy the most powerful electronic system in the world?”
He said, … “yes, if all that is true” and I laughed and said, “otro que se lo ha creido todo (another one who has believed everything)” and wouldn’t believe it myself, logically. “Are you going to do that,” the man said slowly. “If you take me out of the psychiatric hospital after,” I said. “I mean, not you. You find the means.”
But the hypothesis was starting to interest me. “I know someone there,” I said after a while, “I have nothing to do for the time being, I must find someone there and you see, slow revenge has its virtues, bastards can be very useful, sometimes, they can be at the origin of accidental accidents, too.” “You can get there?” “His brother has been staying at my place for a year and will finish his University year thanks to my efforts. It should make an exchange for at least three months.” And I turned myself and said “I have to change cover. Not a penny in my pockets, no friends, no acquaintances, already a little bit mad, in any case quite stupid and dull like a sheep, I will get inside.” “And how are you going to touch their system?” “Because they don’t know that electronic marks are kept after changing the system. I will even tell them and they won’t believe me. I just need to keep in the computer a piece of something that may be related to their system.” “And?” “They will never recover of the virus that will enter the main working system. Do you believe me?” “ … Yes …” “I don’t believe it myself and if it really happens I will be terrified for six months after. On top, they have no milk.” And I burst out laughing as if I had found the funniest association of ideas of the world.
Diamond. (I got lost in my contemplations.)
A poison attacking the liver has bridges of attachment to another affecting neurons, so that the liver is healed and you need milk in order to heal yourself. (There are underground agreements between Germany and France.)
One of the them has diamond powder, or the combination of both provokes a reaction that generates something like organic diamond powder. Or the combination of the three elements. ‘Crystals’ in my brain are reading ‘light’.
These people are completely crazy.
Yes, Gazit, I will go. I don’t believe that it works but I need to have a look at that. I hope it isn’t true but it may be that they are attracting the light from Andromeda.
You can’t attack a human because there is life in him. You attack the logic. A human may understand he is wrong and if he doesn’t, he dies. You have to put him in front of the choice, a real choice and if he makes the right one, the logic changes and he lives. You can’t kill a human.
Send a signal before shooting, Natasha. “If you see a dove upon his head, don’t shoot.” (She will shoot the Czeczenian chief February 2006)
Tula has put her 200 million soldiers under the orders of the image made by the Emperor.
I’m Jerusalem in the name of the Queen of Sabah and Sask will build up a bomb and make a war.
Hannah will find the way back. I will meet Li again, later.
It’s for sure that Ines de la Fressange will believe in the story of the Russian Prince.
7 planets are forming a line. 8. The eighth is a moon.
There will be a reversion in time.
Hollywood, you owe me a lot in intellectual rights. You even put Angelina Jolie into my movies.
The light, the light that is ill for us arriving from Andromeda has the same logic than our strange black magic combination in the depth of our unconscious. You believe now that wickedness can attract meteorites on Sodome and Gomorrhe? It can. And Tula believes we can fight against it. We have to move from this towards a reference of rational order. Whatever we do can’t be but a step forward, whatever. Move! Now.
Something between Germany and France is at the origin of it all. Could be the Vatican. Hm? Transubstantiation? I hadn’t dealt with that before.
Was there time before God made the Universe?
Light is driving us crazy.
Shield. Put the seven planets on line. And the moon.
Yes. It will make stones out of light. 7 stones and a moon.
Look. They are there. Meteorites are falling upon the sea in Gallicia and nobody takes care. It’s no meteorites, it’s light.
You see, Sask, how easy finally. You’ll become a stone and I, Natasha and Tula and Li, and even Hannah and Ines de La Fressange, and seven new stars will be born in the universe.
Identity that falls on what we do because it is saying it through the contrary of what is at the origin of our death. The erotical lines will disappear. We will be monads then. And after, perhaps, we will fall in love with someone outside: without ghosts in the middle.
I have to go to Angers. They will die all, otherwise and perhaps it is too late anyhow. For them.
It is of need to conceive a materialization of spirit (Istanbul 1993). Of a given spirit. Of the ill one. Of broken light.
I can’t do otherwise anyhow. I won’t get healed if I don’t do it and they will die anyhow. Point your bombs at France and Germany and Italy and don’t doubt throwing them if they start again wanting to play with … light. Cards, probably. Ask favours of the Emperor if it were of need, Tula, and you Natasha, kill those who have the light. And I, I will say these words to the world for them to get afraid and not to start again.
Es gibt Emperor.
