Archive for February, 2008

precious box


Start from the beginning

Marco seduced Carlito into becoming a merman. It seemed unfair to Carlito that he had to grow fins just to get a piece of tail in the after-life. During his last incarnation, Carlito nearly drowned in several manipulative relationships when his partners, rebellious men with cock-strong natures, led him down paths that he would later regret taking. Marco seemed different. He couldn’t talk, and with the exception of his telepathic abilities, remained silent most of the time. He asked for nothing and insisted on very little—just to hold Carlito on the warm tropical waters of the dead sea—showering him with kisses and making him feel forever loved. But with his eyes, Marco could persuade the most cautious of angels to shed their wings and he did just that to Carlito who never could get enough of his smooth, silky touch.

Former lovers from past lives took advantage of Carltio’s soft-spoken, passive nature and conned him into doing things that he typically would not do on his own—shoplifting, drugs, and thefts were all a part of a life of strong attachments that Carlito had assumed he had left behind. He had spent many years in prisons. In heaven, there are no such places, for there are no rules, yet Carlito wanted to believe he had changed for the good. He had done just that and lived a pure, simple life as a tailor in heaven, until Marco stirred the waters of Carlito’s old addictions. 

Carlito had an insatiable longing for the James Dean, Rebel Without a Cause type. That’s what he fished for in life—fearless men who stop at nothing to get what they want. Why should heaven be any different? Tastes in men never change. The nature of a soul is rarely altered, despite the body that it is in. Even as a merman living in a world of endless possibilities, Carlito could not resist the urge to go back into the water and spawn with danger and throw caution to the wind again with a bad boy at his side.

Sex was not supposed to happen in heaven, at least that’s what Carlito believed when he first arrived in purgatory and took up a trade of mending and sewing. Then he saw Marco swimming in the sea. Marco with his golden skin and black, curly hair seduced the shy tailor like a worm on a hook.Why? Why again had he fallen for the simple kiss of a man with a dangerous edge and adorable dimples?

Carlito jumped in the yellow sea, thinking it was his end. At the time, the plunge was an opportunity to make love with a handsome man again. The urge for affection was worth giving away eternal life for. There was no better way to end the cycles of eternity, Carlito believed. The dive into the stagnant sea waters was supposed to be an end to everything. Everyone else in purgatory who dives into the great sea vanishes—never to be heard from again. Going out with a big bang was Carlito’s plan. I want that mermaid to kiss me, was his last thought as he committed what he believed was suicide. Who would have known that Carlito was really a merman too?

Everyone in heaven told him to stay out of the ocean “or else”. That’s how the Mermen met and how they fell in love. Carlito’s most secretive wishes were fulfilled when he entered the waters. The currents made him a woman, a very beautiful woman. To Marco, a bisexual creature by nature, it didn’t matter. But for Carlito, the change to fins was something he had only ever dreamed of.There are no guarantees for men who swim into the passageway at the bottom of the oceans to go back in time and relive past lives.

Returning to the paradise of purgatory is not a guarantee when mermaids enter the realm at the bottom of the ocean. There have been many mermaids who have entered the whirlpool of bliss at the base of the Holovakia trench never to be heard or seen swimming again. Carlito had no choice when Marco dragged him there. He was helplessly in love again. The danger was irresistible. And again, he had fallen helplessly in love. When they first met in the waters off the coast of Oceana, Carlito begged Marco to become like a man again and leave the waters of yesterday to live with him in his little stone house on a cliff in paradise. Marco was deaf and preferred the tranquility of the sea. Getting back the gift of hearing is not as sweet as it may sound. The noise of the afterlife frightened Marco. He stayed in the ocean, refusing to walk upon the sands of eternity, despite his love for the land dweller. “We can be lovers there, and raise a family,” Carlito begged.

Marco just splashed his two large tails and smiled at his lover as if to say, our lives have just begun, sweetheart.There was something left undone in Marco’s past and until it was resolved, his lover would never truly belong to him. Where would he be for all of eternity without the man he loves with all his soul next to him in his bed? Such gorgeous eyes and strong arms! Carlito had no choice to but take the risk and return with Marco to his past. He followed him into the Holovika trench blindly, just as he had so many other times when following the paths of the men in his life.Carlito put up a sign that read “closed” on the door of his tailor shop and swam away with his lover not knowing what was on the other side. They went back looking for answers surrounding the death of Marco’s mother Maria. Neither knew that they would have to re-live the tragedy, the death, the suicide of Marco’s mother who shot herself in the head while she was still nursing baby Marco.When they emerged into the past, Marco could not be seen but his presence was felt. Carlito was alone sitting in a tiny room on a rocking chair. She was pregnant. Marco was swimming in her belly. Carlito had become Marco’s mother on their return to the past…

Continued here…

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$600 Income Tax Rebate

Lenox, my red- headed, African American landlord nearly beat down my apartment door last evening.

“Is it the first of the month already?” I asked my lover while glaring through the peep hole on a steel door that separates our love nest from the horrors of the ghetto and Lenox’s bad dye job.

“What the hell does he want?” B. asked me.

“What do you want Lenox?” I barked while speaking to him through a tiny crack I had permitted the door to open to.

“Do you have a key to the basement? I lost mine and Con Edison fined me $100 last month because they do not have access to read the meters.”

I found the key and handed it to him without permitting him to step inside.

“Fuck! I screamed at B. Here comes a $600 electric bill. Con Ed hasn’t read that meter since July and we’ve been running these two electric heaters all winter.”

It is illegal to rent an apartment in New York City and not include heat and hot water as part of the rent, but Lenox, like the rest of corporate America, manages to side-step the laws and rents us a two bedroom apartment for $1,000 a month, without utilities included. I also pay him in cash, that way he does not have to claim the monthly rent that he sucks from us like an oil refinery to the IRS. Last winter, the heating bills nearly killed B. and me. With the price of oil skyrocketing, we made a decision to not turn on the boiler this year and run two portable electric heaters instead. My oil bill dropped drastically and the electric charges were estimated reasonably, until now.

Con Edison has been leaving me messages for months, trying to get inside to read those meters downstairs. It looks like finally, they will be able to charge me what I owe. I’m just glad it was Lenox who was fined the $100. At least with my $600 George W. Bush tax refund supplement on the way, I can spend the money just as the president wishes—on him and his friends like Lenox, who always seem to hold the key to financial success.

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Precious Box


Start from the beginning… 

Marco lost his hearing when he was just eight months old. An explosion from a gun fired near his tiny ears ripped the thin layer cartilage making up his eardrums. A silver Smith-Wesson Crimson Trace Laser pistol caused the sounds of life to terminate. It was the same weapon used to murder his mother. Blood dripped down her olive-colored face, over her temple and across bushy eyebrows like tears of lava pouring from a volcano. A hole was blown into the side of her youthful face as if a comet had struck the earth. The expression of her death was strong and fearless, like that of a mountain that reaches into the clouds.

Child Marco screamed the moment the gun went off but quickly returned to suckling, not realizing what had happened. Silence. Absolute silence. He would remain that way for the rest of his life. Stillness. Emptiness. Solitude. Nourishment.

Blood dripped down Maria’s neck and over his head that was no larger than a grapefruit at the time. It poured into his tiny mouth as he nursed. Her arms continued to cradle him, even though her spirit had departed. The sound of her heartbeat ended. Ever since the womb, the pounding of her heart echoed from beneath her bosom. Now the rhythm was gone. No longer could he hear or feel her breathe. The sound of her was gone forever. She dropped him. Marco bounced to the floor. He was alone in silence for two days crying in absolute stillness.

Continued here…

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Start from the beginning 

Grace unwrapped a blanket of burlap sacks covering Carlito’s rose garden and watched as a pink worm burrowed through rich, fragrant soil . Springtime returns to paradise. Already, tiny green leaves have sprouted upon tender, thorny stems. In a matter of days, the acres of land that surround Carlito’s estate will sparkle with vegetation again and the fragrant roses will return to full bloom. The weeping willow trees that tower above the tailor shop will mourn again– casting solemn shade upon the stone dwelling.

She removes the bedding of decomposing organic matter that was placed here by Carlito in the Fall. This is her place now. Carlito spent the winter in his tailor shop, mending near a fire as heavy snows fell outside, wishing that he could stay to see the roses in bloom during the summer months.

He kept his sheep inside with him as company. They were like cats, wandering around the shop and house. The animals were permitted in his kitchen, something that Grace would never allow if the beautiful home belonged to her. The wooly creatures helped themselves to turnips that Carlito placed in a hand-painted pottery bowl on his butcher block table. The weather always turns to Spring here in the place between heaven and hell when the gods of the sea return to the waters to perform their mating rituals. He is among the currents of the cosmos with his friends now. With the tailor gone, days of thunder will surely return. The changes of the seasons in heaven are like the endings of books. They occur not by nature, but are based on the patterns of migrating mermen.

Barefooted, she carefully steps between twelve yellow rose bushes that bloom like in the old country. Carlito brought them back from the other side after his last trip there. He carried them in his mouth like  a beaver carrying sticks to build a dam. He swam from the depths of the deep orange sea of yesterday to this place– purgatory– the land between here and there with twelve rose bushes in his mouth. That was all he brought back with him– rose bushes. Mermen need so little to remain content.

He planted the rose roots in the ground outside of his shop to serve as a promise to those who will surely miss him when he is gone. Like a perennial, his presence will return to this land.

The roses will be lovely. Grace enjoys taking care of the garden and the shop while he is away. The pink nightcrawler slowly crosses her dainty toes. She wiggles them because the worm tickles. Surely by this time, Carlito has laid his eggs, she realizes. By now, his tadpole-like offspring are tucked safely inside clear, jelly- like cocoons, and planted somewhere along the edges of the ponds of purgatory. The mating rituals of the mermen intrigue her. They are so secretive when they lay their eggs. She has always wanted to go with him to watch them hatch, but she stays here because someone has to take care of this beautiful place.

She has done enough swimming in that yellow ocean for now and has had enough kids of her own in her own time. Perhaps one day she will swim back there too, to re-live fond memories of her past and swim as a seductress in the sea of life. But for now– this is her reality. What a cozy place this is. 

Someone’s got to keep the weeds out.

Continued Here…

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 The New York State Division of Human Rights contacted my house last week. It was Alton Wolfe’s voice on the machine. He was the specialist assigned to my case several years ago—the case in which I filed charges of disability discrimination against my employer for their failure to recognize my disability—Schizophrenia.  

“Mr. Taylor, this is Alton Wolfe from the State Division of Human Rights. I have information relating to your case. Please give me a call when you have a moment,” was the message he left on my answering machine.


I thought about the meeting that I had at the State Office of Mental Health located within the Adam Clayton Powell State Office Building in Harlem. How horrible it was for me to sit in that meeting and face the powerful attorneys that JBFCS had hired in their defense of my charges. As I look back now, I wish I had the money to hire my own lawyer for that meeting. The sad truth was, I did not, and sadder still, was the decision that Alton Wolfe and the State Division of Human Rights had made in regards to my case.


I took it upon myself to request a formal review from the Federal Government into this case after the state rejected it. With it being a disability complaint, I’m protected by not only state laws, but federal ones as well.


I explained to the U.S. Government that I found it unfair that both the State of New York and my employer, a non-profit agency that receives $85 million annually from the state to treat the mentally disabled, required that I use my personal checking account to cash checks that were used to reimburse Medicaid patients for transportation to and from treatment. I had explained during my meeting in Harlem that I became paranoid again—a sure sign of schizophrenia—after my financial institution placed a hold on my checking account for “suspicious activity”. My employer required that I cash an $8,000 check as part of my job duties, causing the bank to become suspicious. When I refused to cash anymore checks, my employer suspended me for insubordination. They claim that the reason why I was suspended was because I called them “A bunch of money grubbing whores.”


Now, does that sound like something I would say? I’m a Christian. I would never say such a thing. Anyway…


I read the letter that Alton Wolfe sent to me, prior to his phone call, the one that  indicated that there was no proof that I was discriminated against, yet, he failed to mention in his determination letter, anything in regards to the fact that I was forced, during the paranoid phases of my Schizophrenia, to use my own checking account to conduct business on behalf of the State of New York.

“This is unacceptable,” I wrote to the EEOC as I explained my side of the story again. “Please review all the facts in the case. Respectfully, Charles G. Taylor.”


Mr. Wolfe’s last letter to me indicated that they found no cause of harassment or discrimination and that my case and the file on the matter had been closed.


I wondered why he was calling, but didn’t think twice about it.


I picked up the phone, called the State Office of Human Rights and left a message on Mr. Wolfe’s voicemail—it was 8 p.m. in the evening and I knew when I called he would not pick up the phone.


“Hey Alton, this is Charles, Charles Taylor. Don’t ever call my house again. If you have something to say to me, put it in writing!”


I slammed down the phone before screaming ‘BITCH’ into the phone.

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Precious Box


Start from the beginning 

Grace Hershey watches over the tailor shop when Carilto is away. She tackles the task of laundering for the community in his absence.

“This place is yours until I return,” Carilto says to his friend Grace, a woman who he has known since an Earthly childhood. “Watch over it for me.”

“Carlito. I will miss you. Hurry back, dear,” Grace reassures. Kissing his rosy face, leaving traces of dark red lipstick smeared over his bright smile like the tracks from a peeling automobile.

When he ceases from weaving magical dream garments and takes a break from a vocation of sewing with golden needles, the man with the face of a boy and hair like an Earthly woman runs off to the arms of the sea to enjoy the pleasures of paradise. For now, his work is done here. The knitting is complete. The reassuring clacks of Carlito’s needles ends and the village freezes in silence.

They know that soon, Grace will be in charge again– a time of dancing, heaving drinking, drugs, deviant sexuality and a host of other once sinful acts of human nature. Only when Carilto returns will the craziness come to an end here. Carlito knows that all will be in order in his shop with Grace watching over, no matter how rough it gets.

The singing of ruby birds in the cherry trees that surround his stone hut is no more. The birds too followed him when he left. Carilto, like the seasons which change, converts back to his form of the sea– a woman. He knows he must leave the land now, or he will turn to a pillar of salt in the dry winds of land. His breasts slowly started to swell. Golden hairs that covered his boyish chest feel off, revealing his softer side. Carlito measured out the last sleeve for the robe he was working on, attached it with a blind seam, and decided to leave Oceana once again. They will be alright. Grace is with them, he reassures himself. He says goodbye to his goat Cassie and calls upon Grace to step into his shoes for a while.

Grace cannot sew nor does she have an interest in learning to. She runs a laundry service from Carlito’s tailor shop while he is away. She uses a stream of crystal clear emerald waters which flows out back to hang garments on lines that cross under the gentle fall of a burgundy waterfall. She dries the clothes on lines and folds them for the patrons of town who come here to have their laundry done.

Carlito puts his silk treads in a cedar sewing box to go swimming like a fish in the sea. He swims away for long periods of time, exploring an ocean with private islands that no man has ever stepped foot on before. Grace is in charge of this place while he is away. He trusts her and knows that his business and animals will be in safe keeping as he swims upstream, like a salmon scaling waterfalls in search of spawning ground. He is off to repeat a cycle that has continued for what seems an eternity. Grace understands the movements of the mermen. In a way she is just like them, but she is a lady who lives on the land at her choosing. Like Carlito and Marco, she is one of the saved. She has had her fill of the pleasures of paradise and chooses to stay behind to give hope to those who suffer when the gods of the sea are back in their realm.


She is a good friend from his childhood. A woman, who though not related to him by blood, helped to raise him. She lived in Carlito’s hometown of Saltillo. She is like his mother, picking up behind him as he changes like a butterfly from a young man to a virgin girl. She too can go back to the waters and swim as a young, youthful girl again. But she has done so, many, many times before and is tired. She wishes to serve Carltio and remains here to tend to what is his, knowing that if she stays here in Oceana, they will be alright. Grace realizes that in life, it is better to serve than to be served.

Carlito will return from his swimming in the Holovakia Trench. Until then, she is in charge here. Her hair is white like snow now. So long it has been since she herself repeated the cycle. She has learned to love her ancient body, more than the youthful, new ones that await her within the cycles of eternity. For now, this is where she wishes to be– in the tailor shop. The peace, the quiet, the comforts of the house with a waterwheel outside. The garden– the flowers– the bees– it is just like a time she remembers, in the little town of Saltillo where Carlito was once her paperboy.

Chickens continue to lay eggs and goats should be milked daily with fresh straw placed their pens. Purple horses prefer to have their manes brushed weekly and the sheep, especially Cassie, need company and to periodically have their precious fleeces sheered and placed in the shop, awaiting the return of Carlito the man, the tailor.

Grace takes care of it all. Soon she will return– Carlina. Days later her voice will lower and suddenly he will insist, “Please, call me Carlito.”

Continued here…

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Precious Box


Start from the beginning 

With Carlito and Marco swimming in the sea, a pale, rusty sky sprinkled with woolly clouds emerges. Paradise fades as the mermen re-enter their kingdom.

If the mermen return from the waters, the land will become like heaven again. For now, Carlito and Marco are like buoys floating in an underwater dimension of endless possibilities. The sky turns dismal. On shore, where gravity is still a reality, a down trodden sensation overwhelms those who chose to remain. Emotions harden. Hope is shattered. Regret is all there is to feast upon. Cries of fear fill the village and the beaches. It is too late to choose to swim into the lights of the sea now. They will wait and hope that the men of the sea return. Carlito and the glow to life he brings here suddenly vanishes. He is swimming in yesterday with Marco again. They are eternally in love but here, the air turns dry and the hope of moist love is lost.

Far at the edges of continental drifts where the floor of the ocean comes into view, Carlito and his lover dive deep into the Holovakia Abyss; an almost endless trench with a cavern at the very bottom which leads to the birthplace of life itself. It is a doorway to consciousness and an entrance to the place where every dream that has been dreamed is stored safely away– The Light. For those who remain in the darkness of self- preservation like land dwellers, the off- shore, underwater caves are untouchable. The sacred passageways dangle on the horizon like plankton before the mouth of a hungry seahorse caught in the tide.


The Holovakia Trench is a passageway to yesterday; a chance to experience life again, only this time, free of pain and sorrow. Changing the past is the only way to escape the insane isle of purgatory. Many dive into the ocean, following the splashes of the mermen who take with them hope itself. Like so many before, most will never be seen walking the white cobblestone streets of the village again. Pieces of those who jumped in will likely wash ashore like bubbles in the surf. Those who cannot swim become as sacrificial lambs, offering their very souls and the dreams they have made as nourishment for those who go on.

The still waters of the abyss are agitated as the men make their way to the light inside the caverns. The tranquil seas stir once again, causing the core of the universal ocean to tremble. The veil of mercy is pierced as they swim into what is like the belly button of the time. Carlito and Marco gently glide through the caves, trying to prevent as much disruption as possible. They gently make their way through the underwater paradise. Marco holds Carlito just above his buttocks and kicks his legs like a frog. Carltio turns to kiss him and enjoys the sensation of gliding along effortlessly in the mysterious waters. He feels as if he were a baby being transported by a stork.

Those on land feel the quake and realize the gods have departed purgatory again. Carlito tries not to think of his friends trapped in paradise. He begs Marco to enter him once again. The sensation of orgasm– it never ends as long as Marco is inside. It goes on and on– the constant pounding and release from within. Sex itself seems eternal when making it with Marco. Carlito can only imagine what they are moving past as his eyes are closed and he is tossed like a piece of flesh being devoured by hungry sharks under the control of Marco’s strong lovemaking acts. Their emotions stir the waters of the sea again. More bubbles that hold the dreams of forgotten men wash on shore back on the island of forever. Carlito realizes by now, most of what ends up on the beaches back there will perish in the hot sun but he begs for more love from Marco, no matter what the cost.

Marco pulls out, still throbbing with intention, yet knowing that they are almost there. In the silence of the water, Carlito hears their cries. They are as schools of herring being devoured by a whale, far away in the ocean of plenty. He thinks of the clothing that he has made that will protect them. The wool of the garments is strong and he sews with double stitching. Eventually he will have to return to help them, but for now, he is like a fish and not a seamstress. Marco brushes his thick, black hair that moves like seaweed across Carlito’s back– a sign that he wants him to submit again. Carlito arches his back, and they move as one through the strong currents that surround the entrance to the light– a whirlpool of pure bliss.

Stalactites glow like candles within the sea caves. The radiation of the limestone fixtures is caused by the light of the dreams hidden just ahead within the core of the Holovakia Trench. Behind the fang-like cave stone, human consciousness has collected in pools of bliss. It burns in what is like a giant god urn at the bottom of the sea.

Two turns left and one right along the expansive passageways will take them there. As dust floating through the cosmos, Carlito and Marco swim fearlessly into the dream scape. Others come and go, to and from the sacred caverns of magical thinking. They are the few who have sprouted in the garden of eternity– seedlings in the Age of Aquarius.

Here in purgatory, a time of uneasiness, paranoia, racing thoughts will begin again. Constant worry is on the way. The cycles of mermen are like that of redwood trees. The pleasant soothing shade of Carlito is never in one place like that of the ancient trees though. He comes and goes like the wind. Grandeur follows wherever he roams. Goodness surrounds him. Even a god can be in just one place at one time. Sleep and rest fade as the last of the bubbles from the sea are collected. Change will come and hunger will set in again. Never is there a guarantee that Carlito and Marco will come back here. The dreams of those who have perished remain trapped as bubbles far off- shore, along the cliffs of a continental shelf, perhaps they will never be experienced again. A time of fasting has begun. The tide has gone out. The men who move the bubbles are gone for now.

The singing ends. Animals of the land rush to the water’s edge– a stampede of nature. Those who chose not to enter the sea head inland and face the charge of the animals. It seems that every living thing senses what is ahead– heavy dust clouds from the purple sands of the sea will gather in the claws of strong, offshore winds. The oceans are alive and angry over the bubbles that it has lost to man. These are they days of drought. Only after Carlito returns from the sea and sits down to sew at his ancient machine will the time of worry come to an end. He loves Marco with all his heart, he says, and never makes promises to the clientele who come into his tailor shop when it is open for business when they come seeking more clothing. They beg him to live among them forever, but Carlito makes not promises. Villagers learn to appreciate the few moments of eternity they have with Carlito when a god chooses to sew instead of swim.

“Your garment will be ready in time,” is the only promise he makes to villagers who open the stained glass door of the little stone shop nestled on a cliff on the northern tip of the Isle of Oceana. They ring a golden bell that sits next to an ancient cash register that never has held money. He stops the needle on his machine from moving by ceasing the rhythm in his toes.

“May I help you?”

They come inside to do business with the tailor who speaks not with his mouth but with his thoughts. His beautiful, lush, red lips are like gills when he is on land breathing in what is not air. He is an excellent writer, but no longer chooses to use the blackboard walls of his home and shop to communicate with his patrons. Writing serves no purpose outside of life. He chooses to no longer draft messages to those who come to visit him when he is back in his home and tailor shop. Pieces of chalk hang from the ceiling on long, thin pieces of hand woven string. Carlito never writes on the walls of his shop to communicate as he once had done when he first arrived in Hell to open a tailor shop.

The sensation of standing inside of Carlito’s place overwhelms most, but many have learned to trust Carlito and come into the shop to speak their minds and to ask him questions about the meaning of life, the belief in the light, and the temptations of the seas….

Carlito cuts his thoughts off from them when he senses they have listened to enough and he goes back to his sewing, ignoring their pleas to understand more about whether hope exists for them in the sea. There is only so much sewing one tailor can do.

“The garment I am making now is for someone special. The dreams that it will give the owner will be pleasant ones. I do not know if this will be your robe. I will hang it outside when I am finished and it will call its owner. That is all I can say to you for now. Good day,” Carlito softly whispers into the consciousness of those placing orders with the tailor of purgatory.

The heavens fade from a dreamlike state. Burning ultraviolet rays of a dying sun afflict from above. The ocean turns choppy and brown. Sand searchers untie knitted belts that match their garments and pull over the hoods that Carlito carefully made as part of their robes. Hundreds run from the edges of the sea, carrying with them what oracles they manage to salvage under their soft garments, out of the destructive rays of the angry sun. Those who became overly intoxicated by the jelly-like sea bubbles jump into the water, abandoning their wool robes and love for the land. In delusional ecstasy, they swim away, in search of Carlito and Marco and the path they are on. They hope to become as fish in the sea, just like the mermaid gods.

Those who choose to endure the land crawl up a grassy hillside. They must return to their village lined with pearl cobblestones and await Carlito’s return. The sea no longer calls to them.

The last of the bubbles that washed up on shore are placed in glass Mason jars, preserved for later consumption, just as the village tailor had advised.

Often, the writing on the slate stone on the door of Carlito’s tailor shop reads neither ‘open’ or ‘closed’. The slate remains blank, the writing of the words “out to lunch” have vanished over time. Villagers wait for him to return and write the words “OPEN” again on the sign that hangs on the door of his shop. They watch for the candle light to appear in his cozy little hut from their marble dwellings in the valley below. They wait for the sound of chalk to strike a blackboard.

In purgatory, it is never certain when Carlito will awake from the land of dreams and swim up the Holovakia Trench to return to his life as a tailor in hell. They can only hope that in their own memories– within their past, they will recognize Carlito and Marco and convince them to come back to them to reality– to purgatory– where there is no escape, but to dream again.

Continued here…

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