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Sojourns
I am an immortal goddess, carved forever in bleeding marble. Here I intend to share my thoughts with you, the mortals who are now a myth to me. Here I mean to show that somewhere, deep inside me, there is a woman still.
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Oct. 21st, 2005 @ 12:13 am Halloween
Halloween has arrived in the city of Paris.

Virtually unknown only a year before, the Feast of All Hallow's Eve has now found its place in the hearts of the Parisian people. Pumpkins are being sold everywhere, hovering ghosts and spiderwebs decorate the blackened windows, brooms prevent evil spirits from entering the French homes, and little children beg their parents for fake fangs. Indeed, though the older men and women seem not to be very fond of the feast, the young are handing out flyers and pamflets for the various Halloween parties that are being organized. Behold the "Night of Dracula" at Jean's place, starting around midnight, bring your own candy. Or would you prefer to dress up as a witch and go to François et Marie's Full Moon party? If that is not your idea of a good time, why not go home, light a candle and turn on the tv. Surely the many tv-programs that are informing the viewer about the origins of Halloween, or that take you for a Haunted Tour of the city can give you some inspiration. Horror in Paris.

This is the place where Marius and I have spent the past few months. The past centuries spread themselves open to us and invite us to revisit our memories, to attune ourselves to each other's presence. To see his face in front of me, to feel the coldness of his hard skin, is a miracle to me. Is there a God, are there many Gods? I see one standing before me. The God of my dreams, who haunts me in my daytime sleep.

We have taken up residence in the InterContinental Hotel, facing the famous Jardin Des Tuileries on the Right Bank of Paris. Marius watches the various artists who attempt to capture the beauty of the Tuileries by night while I hunt or take a walk in this enchanting neighbourhood. I must convince him to paint me in the garden one night. Is it not the very place he would paint on the walls of the Shrine of Those Who Must Be Kept?
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Aug. 13th, 2005 @ 05:33 am Love In Paris
A café in Paris. Here on a terras at the Place de la Bastille, I had agreed to meet with Marius. When last I saw him we were both in the city of London where we had spent several nights together, roaming the pavements, sneaking into the many museums and observing the numerous mortals crowding the streets. The usual steaming hot cup of coffee had already been ordered and was warming my cold hands, while the rain that I could tell had been falling all day had now been replaced by a warm summer breeze. Marius hadn't arrived yet, and I spent this time watching the scenes around me.

A young couple sat not far from me. She had one hand spread out over her belly, and her eyes were already on fire with the soft gleam of a mother's compassionate expression. She didn't know. Her male companion was trying to persuade her to consult a doctor. She hadn't had her period and he was worried about her health. The whisky-cola on the table in front of her hadn't been touched. No doubt she would instead ask for a glass of water in a while, but for now she was simply listening to her lover, nodding now and then at what he said, promising him yes, she will go see a doctor. Yes, she will get a medical examination, if that was what he wanted, if it would reassure him.

Her gaze shifted from him to me and she stared right into my eyes, as if she couldn't quite figure out what she was looking at. I gave her my warmest smile, grateful for the makeup that was covering my pale face, and the lipstick that bruised my lips. My hood was up over my head and the sunglasses barely managed to conceal my eyes.

"She must be fascinating to keep you silent for so long."

I turned my head to look at Marius, who had silently slipped into the chair opposite me. He was decked out in all red velvet tonight, as usual, and was observing me with narrowed eyes. I couldn't tell whether he was angry at me for having let down my guard, or that he was overcome with joy because of our reunion.

"Marius! How long have you been sitting there?" I demanded to know of him. He was looking in the direction of the woman and didn't answer me. I grabbed his right hand that was stretched out on the table and held it in mine. "Why did we split up again? Is it impossible for us to be together for any period of time without arguing, without becoming enraged with each other?" He sighed and pressed my hand. "I don't know, Pandora. But I don't want us to be apart again, I don't want to be seperated from you for another 2,000 years, that I do know. I couldn't bear the centuries when I was severed from your presence, and like Alpheus I followed you wherever my lead took me, ever dreaming of the day when we would be reunited. You had become a Goddess to me, and you are a Goddess to me still."

I was dumbfounded, and I did not know what to say. I shook my head. "I don't know where the years may take us, Marius, but I don't want us to be seperated again either. I have a room in the Waldorf Madeleine Hotel at the Boulevard Malesherbes. Come with me, let us at least spend this time together. Love in Paris, there isn't anything quite like it... Come with me!"

He stared at me for a while, and then got up, holding my hand still firmly in his. "Let's go then."
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Jun. 7th, 2005 @ 05:57 pm Roma, caput mundi eternus
Current Mood: nostalgic

Altar of Domitius Ahenobarbus

This long relief represents on the left a census, with the registering of citizens on lists, and on the right a religious scene closing the ceremony: the sacrifice to the god Mars of a bull, a ram, and a pig. It comes from a monument erected on the Field of Mars, by Cnaeus Domitius Ahenobarbus, consul of Rome. It denotes my mortal life, spent in the eternal city of Rome, where religious ceremonies were integrated within normal daily life. Mars was one of our major deities; originally god of spring and fertility, he was given the attributes of a God of war later on. The Field of Mars was also dedicated to him. Situated outside the citywalls of Rome, this field was used for excercising and the practice of sports. On this field we had erected an altar where once every 5 years to honor the god we held the "Suovetaurilia", the ritual sacrificing of a pig (sus), a sheep (avis) and a bull (taurus).
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May. 23rd, 2005 @ 08:15 pm William Blake - Night
Current Mood: peaceful
Current Music: Secret Garden - Nocturne
The sun descending in the west,
The evening star does shine;
The birds are silent in their nest,
And I must seek for mine.
The moon, like a flower
In heaven's high bower,
With silent delight,
Sits and smiles on the night.

Farewell, green fields and happy grove,
Where flocks have ta'en delight.
Where lambs have nibbled, silent move
The feet of angels bright;
Unseen they pour blessing,
And joy without ceasing,
On each bud and blossom,
And each sleeping bosom.

They look in every thoughtless nest
Where birds are covered warm;
They visit caves of every beast,
To keep them all from harm:
If they see any weeping
That should have been sleeping,
They pour sleep on their head,
And sit down by their bed.

When wolves and tigers howl for prey,
They pitying stand and weep;
Seeking to drive their thirst away,
And keep them from the sheep.
But, if they rush dreadful,
The angels, most heedful,
Receive each mild spirit,
New worlds to inherit.


And there the lion's ruddy eyes
Shall flow with tears of gold:
And pitying the tender cries,
And walking round the fold:
Saying: "Wrath by His meekness,
And, by His health, sickness,
Are driven away
From our immortal day.

"And now beside thee, bleating lamb,
I can lie down and sleep,
Or think on Him who bore thy name,
Graze after thee, and weep.
For, washed in life's river,
My bright mane for ever
Shall shine like the gold,
As I guard o'er the fold."
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