Dark Side of the Moon in Darxination
Breathe in the Dark
From Chapter 10. Scream
This music was the real thing. Carola thought fantastic, but no, the immediacy of it filled the room with sublimated matter. Such music connected skies and earth. You walked in it and dreamed in it at the same time. Received the power to walk spaces, so much the ground under your feet as empty indefinite spaces. You found yourself in the middle, a connector, the human connector turned all-powerful god. Meekness faded away. Why on earth had she imposed that interdiction on herself when music made her powerful? Couldn’t she handle that power? Or rather, was painting more at hand? Maybe so, as simple as that.
Ah, this music again. Carola breathed empty spaces. Her senses sent light particles traveling meadows, meadows of tellurian life, meadows of cosmic silence, and endless meadows of her dark self. Dark became dazzling light, a supernova expanding.
“This is your piece,” Paul said with firm conviction.
“Oh, Paul, I love you for that. Yes, aren’t you breathing an all-alight universe?”
“I am, dear woman. I want to breathe in the universe with you,” he said half-jokingly and half-earnestly.
They were moving in the middle of the room, in a light embrace. Carola was weeping. Life was happening so close. Why was that closeness beyond her touch? Beyond words, and beyond screams. She could not bear the beauty of that music. Deep down, Carola understood she would never paint anything as true. Paul saw, but did not ask, just let her have her cry. He might be thinking the same — music was above all means of expression.
Mon-ne-eey. That call brought Carola down to earth. The brisk energy of the song did rehabilitation work on her damaged senses. But the rhythm was too powerful, beyond-her-bearing powerful. She pushed herself out of Paul’s embrace, mad again. It was getting dark, and the electric sounds seemed to be the sole source of light.
The next moment, she was bathing in a lake on the moon. A saxophone was playing to her cold ears from earth, a sweet male voice. “Us, us, us, us, us…” It sounded like a lullaby chanted to her many egos. “Them, them, them, them, them…” They were on the other side of the moon, her anti-egos. How despicably maddening.
“Why did you stop the music?” Carola shouted.
“Enough. This isn’t doing you any good.”
Paul hugged her, and Carola complied, defeated. He kissed her. She complied. Tiny red lights were flickering on the music console. At the back of her mind, music was sighing away. She sent a ripple of love to the silenced electronic equipment on the opposite wall. It multiplied and rolled worldwide to all electronic equipment existent.
Then, strange, those same ripples of love came back toward Paul. She felt like bathing there, inside the circle of his powerful arms. Carola offered her tongue — the ultimate carnal materiality.
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