The Letter The Performance  

We were intoxicated, the ground beneath us shook. Sophia, trembling, was floating among the flashing spirals of sound, her small face resembled a white sugar-grained dolomite. We watched Apprehensively as the mighty branches of the larch trees bent elegantly into the form of a woman’s hand with long fingers as it enticingly invites a Kiss. But suddenly laughter echoed forth from the gaps between the boulders, soft animated chatter, and Merry giggling, a brief moment when rapidly and intermittently, goggling faces with beaks started to blink; not tied or manacled with joynt or limb, nor founded on the brittle strength of bones, they shot over our heads, in a Storm of foam, and turning strange somersaults in the air. Their Pure essence is so soft and uncompounded, and in the twinkling of an eye they vanished into the star dust: the variety of sound flurries, light, trembling tones, whistling whizzing, bell-like shimmering sounds, the Fiendish swingings and gentle tones with which Nature unites all objects. The sheer Madness of these happenings, for Spirits when they please can either Sex assume, or both, carrying balls of butter on their heads, and Rebellious angels giving vent to their feelings in a dancing, goldenhair-bobbing tangle of bouncing locks. And furthermore, the herb-scented Binner wind, rough and yet warm, turned into a Howling cascade of echoes, which wound their way serpentine fashion over the valley. Blue-green-red crystals gleam in a way that is pleasing to the eye, adorning Sophia’s throat with the brilliance of diamonds. This pyramid-shaped crystal illuminates our path as we make our way through quarz-reflected caves and tunnels and craggy rocks, flower-footed -----weightless -----. Furthermore, Sophia’s hair is dotted with fragments of glitter, which transform her enchanting little head into a Star-studded firmament, and piles up luxuriantly, bulging out in the form of a symbolic sign. Reflected in metallically shining crystals, watching how I embrace Titania, the Queen of the Fairies, on a gleaming stone, surrounded by glittering radiant cubes, which turned out to be an Ornamental-style hall of mirrors, I caught sight of myself in a goat’s Peruke; I was just on the point of powdering my hair. She wore a light translucent gown; we flew through spheres of Pleasure, clutching Tightly to the horns of our desires, her star flew and flew e.t.c., e.t.c. Titania’s demonic laugh shimmered in a Star-encrusted glowing night.

As I write these moving lines, I cast my mind back to the tale You told me about how Your father threatened to beat You as a boy because You had seen a tree full of angels. How perspicacious to see through the Trappings of the material world! The countless fools and their Foppish masculine logic – You crushed them, and in most impressive fashion showed them that there is such a world. And it is here in this mysterious and deeply mystic Binnenthal, with the Lengenbach mine. I now lay down my quill for a moment in order to embrace Your picture and shower it with kisses.
Dear Will! By the Lengenbach mine I was given a title: I am “The Primary Hobgoblin to the Devil”.

Make haste, my dear Will, waste no time, I beg of You to undertake this journey to the Lengenbach mine. See for Yourself; I have crumpled up dozens of sheets of paper in my endeavour to describe to You the oscillations of the sounds.

Here is soul, action, passion. Adieu, H. Fuseli

< 3

Newsletter Media Sponsors Contact Guestbook Links Masthead