I am floating over an endless desert. Sometimes there are spectral images slowly rising above the horizon, gently floating upwards, ever changing in their process of ascent, until they reach the racing clouds and dissolve. Some feet below me the sand stretches to infinity in delicate patterns, runes and glyphs written by the wind upon the face of the desert. They mean nothing for me, yet I distinctly remember.

Sometimes I feel soundwaves slicing through the agitated air and I feel their energy touching my essence, joining with it and rearranging it. Like ripples in a pond they spread out from wherever a voice pinched the silence and from there they continue to travel in concentric circles until they reach the horizon and mingle with the images from the fountain and the caves.

A black alley and drops of blood falling through the steaming rain.

There is motion; I begin to drift into one direction, towards the horizon, but nothing changes apart from the pattern in the sand. The dunes between here and the horizon do not come closer, only the clouds, they race above my head. The light fades and twilight darkness flows along the pattern in the sand, sinking into the ground, contradicting it. Drying it out. Cracking the once smooth surface into a mosaic of tiny slabs of rough earth.

Time moves, a stream of perception drying out to an empty well and with the edge of nightfall the ripples of sound cease and no images rise to the racing clouds.

The rain never stops. Bright flashs of light temporarily blind me, but when I can see again nothing has changed. The drops of rain still crash against the window-pane that is illuminated by the neon lights of the street below and the twilight darkness of midday DownTown still fills my room. The TV screen is blank; I cut the power-cable and SLA would punish me if they ever found out for damaging their property. But would SLA do something else, if they punished me? After all I'm their property, too. Everybody is. Fuck, SLA would kill me if they knew these thoughts of mine.

There is no point in getting up, there is no work for me anyway, apart from fucking the day away, and this at least is a way of getting money, but there is no point in not getting up either. I do not bother with the shower, guess it won't run anyway. A cup of water distinctly tasting like squeezed out moldy coffee-beans and a can of breakfast paste takes only a few minutes to swallow. Again, the meal makes me wish for the taste of sperm, to give it some flavor, but my night-lover apparently has left me during the early morning. Flavor, a forbidden term that I read about in an ancient book that I found in some alley. Fuck, SLA would kill me if they knew I know forbidden words.

That fucking dickhead! Fucking cheated me. 50 was the price, but he left only 25. Fuck him. Yeah, did that and my snapper's still red from his abuse and it hurts when I slip my fingers between it's lips. Guess he bit too hard. 25 for a bitten snapper; what a fucking lousy deal. At least it will be enough for my next shot of Flip after this one.

A torn and semi-transparent bra and above it a dirty shirt, three sizes too large, that's all, apart from a smelly jeans hot-pants. But nobody cares for the smell, some seek it. Nobody who travels here for a fuck cares about the smell. Flesh's all they want and flesh's all they get and the smell of my snapper makes me cleaner than any shower ever will. I like this power of my snapper, making me their mistress. They'd do anything just for a little smell of my snapper.

Outside the others walk aimlessly down the street. Empty faces and nameless bodies. Rats everywhere, nobody cares. Time. Rats. Faces. Time. The empty face eyes me, touches my breast squeezes it. Pleasure. Other hand is between my legs now. Lets go of my breast, hand dissolves. Uni-hand squeezes unis between breasts. Voice. Go slut. Wanna fuck. Going. A darker side alley. Body motion. Naked upon a trash-bin. Rocking back and forth, the bin under the curve of my back, my back and my ass joining together with the trash in the bin. Pleasure in my snapper with violent strokes. Pain around my nipples. Them being bitten and licked. Bitten and licked. More violent strokes. Movement in the trash under my ass. Something slim probing the way to my ass. Something slicky forcing its way through my sphincter. A cry. My cry, when his finger penetrates into my ass. He comes but I cannot come. I never come. Then he goes. My snapper and my breast hurt and I still wish for the taste of sperm. Want to do a blow-job. Need more Flip.

Chain yourself to me.

The flash leaves no after-image in my field of vision, and then the star shrinks to its usual size, its ray of light moving somewhere else. The other stars fade when the sky turns to grayish blue again. At the horizon spectral images slowly rise and float gently upwards, ever changing in their process of ascent until they reach the racing clouds and dissolve. Some feet below the broken mosaic of slabs of cracked earth stretches to infinity in rough patterns, lines written with twilight upon the face of the desert. And I distinctly remember.

Soundwaves slice through the agitated air with terrible power, their energy touching my essence, joining with it and rearranging it and turning it upside down. Like ripples in a pond they spread out from just beyond the horizon, where a voice pinched the silence and from there they continue to travel in concentric circles until I can hear them singing of Mount Abora.

I am in motion; I have always been in motion and the desert races below me trying to beat the angry clouds above. Dunes race by even faster than the face of the clouds can change. There is an overall pattern that I can almost glimpse. A pattern in the earth and a pattern in the air, a pattern with ceaseless turmoil seething.

Twilight turns to nebulous darkness, suspended between morning and night. Stars swim across the sky, far above the racing clouds that shift and change, swimming against time, losing. A familiar constellation above, spending consolation with its light. A ray of light, coming from the middle of the three stars, memories swimming upon its fluid state. And the realization of terror, when I am bathed in its effulgent aura.

A tongue licking my sore snapper. Can't remember the name, but tits are pressed against my legs. No money this time only relief of pain. I have lost all the money I fucked together today. Can't remember why. Need a fix of Flip. A voice from below, but words without meaning. Twilight becomes darkness a tunnel of darkness without light hold me no don't let yourself fall hold on an outstretched arm sound and the tunnel closes.

... lost"

My eyes crash open and I frenetically gaze in every direction. There is chaos around me, I am covered by something and rain is falling. Patterns of light shift in the distance, behind the face that is just a few inches away from mine.

I back up but I cannot retreat further into the mass that covers me, my heartbeat shoots up and I cannot stop my body from shivering. Arms, legs, breast, everything is shaking in terrified shivers beyond my control.

A hand moves in front of the face and I still cannot see the eyes. They are hidden beneath a cloth of shadow, as is the mouth. Then the soft voice comes again from the depths: "You are lost. Take my hand."

I try to back up further into the mass of trash that begins to fall all over me.

"Do not be afraid. I will help you."

I stretch out a shivering hand and grip the other hand and when I feel the pull of his hand that lifts me to my feet I see a single tear of blood running down his cheek, holding on to his chin and finally falling together with the drops of rain towards the ground.

Chain yourself to me.

The broken mosaic of slabs of cracked earth stretches to a circular range of steep-rise mountains that fall towards a deep crater on the inside of their ring. The light from the stars dims and the sky colors from twilight black to grayish blue again. At the horizon, behind a tall white tower, spectral images slowly rise and float gently upwards, ever changing in their process of ascent until they reach the racing clouds and dissolve. At the edge of the crater I remember, wondering about the transmuting figure in black in the center of the depression.

I float over the edge of the crater, drawn towards the transmuting shape and gently descend into the ring of stone when I approach the figure. Long strands of black hair wave in the angry wind and I feel the blank gaze of ample, infinite eyes judging me suspiciously.

Charred eyes beneath a black top hat. A pale face lined by floating raven hair.

The shape ceases her perpetual transmutation, becoming an icon of stasis, her gaze now firmly resting upon my essence.

"A grain for a grain and an eye for an eye."

The thunderous impact of her voice crashes against the shroud of silence that covers the desert, breaking through it and sending ripples through its fabric, travelling in concentric circles to the white tower and beyond, the anguish of a woman wailing for her demon lover.

Her face is as ethereal as it is delicate, eyes as twilight as the sky and skin as pale as the stars. The angry wind makes her raven hair flutter in my direction, sending its almost ethereal strands right through me. I hear her name in the wail of her hair and I understand; I understand the tears of black and white she sheds for me; the tears that fall from her eyes yet never reach the ground. Suspended in singularity they simply cease before they reach the mosaic of tiny slabs of broken earth that cries in tune to her wail, with ceaseless turmoil seething.

"You understand nothing. You even do not know where you are", I hear her voiceless sing-sang through the motion of her hair.

My voice surprises me, a melodic wave of colors that bursts from me, meddling with the ripples of her voice, confusing her wail, complementing it with my desperate fury, "You are the Spiritual Whore and I am on White Earth. And it was your brother, who sent me here. Your brother who cried tears of blood."

Her ample eyes narrow to a focused point, shedding a white gaze upon me and I am set adrift on a memory bliss.

I am running through the streets. Running away from fate, running away from him. He helped me from the trash, took my hand and guided me back to the wider street. A sharp turn right, ducking not to collide with a low hanging tube that leaks hot steam into the night. He led me away from the neon glitter of the street and the sex-covered stench of the trash, to a new life of unknown terror. The alley opens to a wide street and I just narrowly avoid being overrun by a Blue Cab Taxi by taking a dive across the pavement; the driver leaning out of the window, waving a cheering good-bye, while I slowly get up and the afterecho of his best wishes still linger in the air, Greetings from Micha Andalucia, for the ride of a lifetime, driving you from hell to heaven, from here to eternity, Blue Cab Taxi, Hallelujah!

I get up, his gaze falling upon me from the shadow of the alley I just emerged. I do not turn, but I can feel the presence of the long, sharp dagger in his hand, the dagger he showed me when he said he would show me truth. I run and he is close on my heels, but when I stop and turn, because I cannot run any longer, there is no one behind me. The rain weeps sorrowfully on the empty streets, thrown down by brows of sudden storm clouds. Rain drops gather on the ground like a sea of tears, rain mixed with the tears of terror.

I retreat into the shadow of a nearby alleyway and drop to the ground. A stream of water runs over my head, but my clothes are already so wet that they cannot get any wetter. I retreat to the end of the alley, a dead-end and there beneath the trash I seek shelter.

Time crawls, but it cannot take away this place. Does it have to end like this? Bitter tears well up from the hollow reservoir of my soul, a reservoir now filled with the waters of despair and terror.

"You knew I'd come", his voice, coming from the end of the alleyway. All hope is futile. I look up from my tear-wet hands and face reality. He stands, drenched in rain, his ragged coat dragged down; oblivious to the pelting shower from the open street, "You've known it all along."

Again, as ever, bloody tears begin to stream from his eyes and mix with the rain, a thin line of sorrow that tickles from his chin and is lost on the ground. He walks into the cover of my shelter and knees before me. The cloth of shadow over his eyes fades and I can see ample, infinite eyes of the coldest white. I cry in terror but he silences my scream with the soft touch of his hand, covering my mouth, stroking my cheek, caressing my head, "Please, don't cry. This shall be a mercy killing. Not even all the bitterness in this world is enough for your eyes."

Chain yourself to me.

I see everything in her eyes and there are worlds in her tears. I see her being raped by her twin brother-sons and giving birth to herself and them afterwards, the son becoming his own father and her brother; I see suns being born, exploding and fading to singularity; black holes emitting white light. I see her giving birth to the universe with one thought and I see her sprit woven into every grain of sand in every desert. Her voice laughing in every cry of anguish and her pain in every tear of joy. I see her spirit in every woman and her longing in every man, her vastness is the universe.

"Unchain yourself", her voice whispers to me, but I remember her brother telling me to do different. There is the caressing stroke of his hand against my head and I almost see his bloody tears falling upon the broken earth. He has been here with me, in the shadow of the gnarled and twisted trees, but he has left me there and returned to the place where he has found me, a place as irreal as my whole life has been. If he knows that he is as irreal as he thinks I was? If he knows that not even his sister-mother is real and self-willed? If he knows that she is not physical but a force? Can he then see that he is only a force, too? Can they understand what I begin to glimpse now? Now, that I am standing atop the white tower together with the Spiritual Whore, who has been inside me for so long, but whom I have denied? Why must I die to understand what living really means - but how can I die in death?

"You can't and thus you're here. At the origin. The source. This is the gate to another life. Choose it while dying. Accept reality, let go and go gently. Give yourself away."

Her eyes are vast. I see Alpha and Omega in her eyes and the lies of the cross and the crescent moon. Time ceases in her eyes and I pierce the bodyguard of lies, to fast to understand them. I swim with truth in her eyes, but I cannot swallow only a single drop of its fluid, far too evasive it is. Her rag-clad brother surfaces from the ocean of truth, crying tears of blood, holding out his hands towards me, begging me, "Chain yourself to me", while his skull-faced twin brother orders me to progress.

She blinks and the universe closes. Light dims, darkness surfaces, night falls and no images rise at the horizon, transmuting until they dissolve at the racing clouds.

I stand alone on the top of the tower, but I feel her presence behind me, her soft hair embracing my naked neck, toying with my feelings, gently brushing against my skin like a silken kiss.

"Forget their selfishness. One cannot let go and the other cannot get enough. Both want the same and both are the other's reflection, a reflection of your innermost desire."

In the distance, welling up from my tormented body I hear the iron tolling of a future bell. I wish I could look again into her eyes, but there is nothing more for me to see, nothing more to know, nothing more to accept, but one thing. And around me the world stops turning and my eyes rise above the horizon in the east, spending light to this world of imagination, this world of subconscious.

"They are inside of you, we always have been and ever will be, and yet we are outside, just like you are outside now, outside everything. Do not chain yourself to a futile, dying hope. I told my brother-son to make you progress, but he did not understand. Give yourself away. Give yourself to me. You hold the key."

The sudden whiteness of this world terrifies me. Everything fades, only the velvet kiss of her hair remains, and it whispers, "do not be afraid", and then even it fades, but I am home and now I can forget.