Magic obliterates world sins. Seventh Sin.

The whole of my head is crumbling fast, brain flakes are swooped up and down by misty spring winds… the head erodes via chirps, thumps and skwangles. All the books I hold in my hand yellow fast. All I eat is watered down instant noodles and supersodas… Sounds and voices and noises assemble together to melt me into shadows… Sometimes it seems I miss a step and crash against the threshold. What’s wrong with my balance? Do walls move now?

Magic obliterates world sins. Fifth Sin

The serpent was huge and erect; its face almost human, crowned by light and with long, black hair pouring down its elongated, distorted neck. A young man, with a, despite unkempt, brilliant, black beard and hair, almost similar to the snake he held with his hands.

Magic obliterates world sins. Fourth Sin.

The Hall of Masks was huge. Huge to a point that moisture would gather on the ceiling – if there was a visible ceiling, so high it was you could not see it – and turn into private, interior clouds. Sometimes it would rain, but the water that fell from those clouds was tepid, sometimes even warm. Confusing, but pleasurable rain. And hovering some feet above the ground, the huge masks would gaze upon you. There were the paperwhite faces, smooth and smiling with red-tinted lips; there were the papier-mâché ones, faces of old men and women; the translucent, reflecting your own body and flickering lights. But all of them, all of them had hollow eyes.

Magic obliterates world sins. Third Sin.

A woman in her bedroom faces the mirror in the morning. She would comb her fiery hair with fire-fingers, a brilliant and disturbing dance of flames that would not mingle betwixt them, casting two lights on everything, giving shadows to birth out of everything. Behind her back, perhaps her lover, perhaps her son, perhaps both, a young man, standing naked from his waist up. The man was humming an almost inaudible song, for his head was being swallowed by a huge snake that he himself held in his arms as one would a baby. The movements did not allow the viewer to understand if it was the boy pushing inside the snake's mouth his own head, or if the snake was swallowing him or if a third presence was invisibly superseding every other stroke.

Magic obliterates world sins. Second Sin.

Across a line that no ones sees or could think of, at the other extreme of the howl, spreads one of the many landscapes of a planet. The whole of the landscape is covered by needle-mountains, in top of which only small birds perch, and briefly. If there were humans, perhaps ballerinas, equilibrists and fakirs would stand barely on one foot and balance their bodies to the forces of the cyanide wind.

Magic obliterates the world sins. First Sin.

At the beach, the last four stripes of sun are dissolving in the immense ocean. A so-far disengaged group of people gathers at the skerry. None of them knew each other - or almost, save a neighborly acquaintance, a couple of young lovers, and the guy from the beach’s popsicle stand, who knew them all by face. They all wet their feet in the thin film of salt and dissipating water of the most far-reaching dying waves, the part that leaves a trail of bubbling sand and new holes, abysses of air.
They all stand looking at the sun. They all stand howling at the ocean.