Homeless in Paris Homeless in Paris | Page 80

B"H escape that gets us beyond limitation by the rational processes . A different intensity in bliss that can be arrived at through meditation. The again, there are the never -ending influences of the "impulse of creation," be it a bang or be it a whisper. Our essence take the shape of a grain of salt traversing, as it were, the hole o f a saltshaker. There exist forces of universal presc ience that preceded my established genealogy, a live being growing into a set of circumstances that propel me through the course of existence at a particular conjuncture, the environment of my residence, the occupation, culture, and motion of the entirety of existence is whose flow I assert I AM. Could people who never learned to use their brains devise suc h a sophisticated plot as will be detailed in the following passages? There I was, in a closed roo m with Maria, and then Vashti made her appearance, so there was two. Crash! Biff, bang, and Clackety clack came the pounding at the door , like the movies of a train coming through the wall. Vasti was wont to respond to the imposing co mmand to open the door, whereas I advised ignoring it until it would go awa y. With the turn of a tumbler, the herd o f wild beasts came bolting in my rental chambers and the Elephant rabbi was apparently excited by the sight of me seated on my bed between the two female guests. He stood there gawking while the grumble of bulls egged him on, until the head honcho behind the break-in would initiate the charge. This might have been the husband or the photographer from the previously described episode. Havoc broke out and though we hadn't lit up , the dudes accused me of the boorish intent to smoke grass in the Elephant manor, o f all things. It was not Goldilocks sitting on the bed beside me, but the head honcho's past soul mate , and behind him, the crowd reeking of blood lust; urging him to attack ! Back in the paralle l universe, Haman has intruded himself into my Marshall personality, then and there on the bed of Queen Esther in Shushan; and I all I knew was that I would most likely hang for this ! To that which previously alluded, the Elephant Rabbi had used his key to open the Pandora's Box, so it he that was positioned front and center, and it was to him that I addressed my sad explanation o f the goings -on. Suddenly, a boisterous rambling came from the porch door as the "photographer" smashes his way through the reinforced glass sliding doors. I had previously set there a board 80