Inverted Pentagram Chalice

It destroys us ... Morelli

This is how Paris destroys us slowly, deliciously, ground between old flowers and tablecloths with wine stains, color your fire without running the evening out of the gates decayed. We invented a fire burns, a glowing structure, an artifact of the race, a city that is the big screw, the needle with its eye horrible night where the thread runs Seine, torture machine as nails, dying in a cage crammed with angry swallow. We burn in our work, great honor mortal, high challenge of the Phoenix. No fire will heal dull, colorless fire running at dusk by the rue de la Huchette. Incurable, perfectly cured, we chose to structure the Big Screw, we lean on him, we enter it, reinventing every day, every wine stain on the tablecloth, to kiss each mold in the early hours of the Cour de Rohan, invent our fire, we burn from the inside out, maybe that is the choice, this may involve words such as bread and napkin in the scent is, fluffing the flour, yes no no, or not without the other, the day without Manes, without Hormuz or Ahriman, once and for all and peace and enough.
Rayuela, chap. 73