With a sigh, he turned his pallid eyes towards the tortuous road disappearing into the horizon; his thoughts neared Sophia’s standing silhouette beside the window, but his body would not follow; he felt himself stuck to his chair, as if suddenly he thought himself an eremite; Tolstoy came to his mind, while his fingers unfolded the damask table linen, his mind almost incoherently subduing his agitated thoughts about what the future might be.
He entered having, what appeared to be a two-bit book in his hand, so at its sight, her behavior displayed some hauteur, until she saw its title and the supernal name of its author, when her attitude suddenly changed as she exclaimed: “Happy New Year, darling, you are a real qualtagh, after all.”
Is this onomatomania? / that is, an irresistible desire to repeat / certain words, the teacher asked / then began to write on the black board: / Ono Island/ Ono is land / ono is Hawaiian for "delicious"/ Ono - a town of Benjamin, in the "plain of Ono"/ Ono means "small field" and ?no means "large field"/ in Japanese/ Mato means kill in Spanish/ Mato (Grosso) is one of the states of Brazil/ Mato (Kosyk) never ceased to write / his Sorbian tales and poems/ Mania / Then he handed to his malleable students / a paper with all the manias listed on the Phrontistery/ asking them to write a poem in Maeterlinck’s style / and unobtrusively the time passed and / the lambent moonlight found the students still writing/
“Can one suffer from agoraphobia in Spaceland?” and “Is Flatland synonymous with a frowst in a cabin?” and “Seeing a straight line as a penny could or could not be a dolorous vision?” and what did Edwin Abbott mean to say when he said (in one of the passages of his Flatland) “It seemed intolerable that I should endure existence subject to the arbitrary visitations of a Magician who could thus play tricks with one's very stomach”? and the questions kept on falling as a torrential summer rain, as if wanting to urge us, to warm us towards perceiving a fourth dimension, then another, and further still.
At the Groundling Theatre, who was some miles away from trendy restaurants and kebab shops, in one of those nights of the year 2345, when magic shows were presented, and the groundling kept on applauding, only those who gave more than an iota about Hyginus’ Fabulae, murmured stertorously, somehow almost sounding as a strange sotto voce, along with Mr. Itys, the magician, the magic spells, spellbound themselves by the magic transformation of a swallow, a nightingale and a hawk, locked in a big cage, into the well known actors called Progne, Philomela and Tereus, Tereus being Mr. Itys’ father, an old actor known to beguile everyone with seductive words.
How can one finesse a poltroon’s mind to make it take flight with diaphanous thoughts and ponder a Shakespeare sonnet, or the works of Plutarch or Raphael Holinshed, whose words inspired new ones, such as “our veil’d dames Commit the war of white and damask in Their nicely-gawded cheeks to the wanton spoil Of Phœbus’ burning kisses: such a pother”, words we find in Coriolanus, or “Patience is for poltroons, such as he: He durst not sit there, had your father lived”, words we discover in King Henry VI?
Inside an old library, some whimsical readers, after being in the company of the Baburnama, which mentions some cards given the appellation of Ganjifa, acquainted themselves with Rama's Army of Monkeys, and with pensive eyes, tried to imagine a simulacrum of the bridge built by the monkey-men army of Rama.
He so much wished that everything was said had been more intricate/ So much, so that not every moke had felt so easily compelled to try his flyting / on all those asking him in an idiomatic language to try, yes, even to perseverate, / and even to convoke no matter what, be they high spheres or winds to ease his way towards replying./
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