once pristine mind


I have written it so far only for the angels. But here it is: I need some help. From them, please, oh muses, etc. it is the pan angelic framework for love and delight. A la Heironymous Bosch. The oranges. It is short-epic, only four hundred pages. A life’s work and deleted, the equivalent of having burnt it in a fireplace in the digital way. The characters live and breathe on, the readers deserve the solace and redemption. Life deserves the hope of a great work, otherwise we are incessantly two steps back, please oh angels, guardians of inspiration, hear my plea. I mark it here for accountability, extemporaneously for you.