#our magic

Behind the bite of your badly trimmed beard There is the sweetness of your tongue My man And behind the rugged callous hands on my bare skin There is the languor of your soul And the weight of your past years The heavy load of your thousand lives The blood of the dead and the lightness of drafts I feel all this in you when you kiss me deep within me.

Your tongue plays with mine, with the practice of lovers from past life Before pausing on the tiny red spot Before the red colour of my lips That is found on all corners of your naked body Reminds me of wilted roses of A thirsty summer When I drank you You drank me Yes, there, And then I drank all of you again.

And when I’m done drinking you, looking at you, kissing you, When my eyes can not hope to look at you,

And that my hands will finally find what they were looking for on the surface of your skin and in the folds of your face,

When the taste of my mouth will end to unite with the taste of your mouth, What will remain of our love, my love?

O mortal, do not ask such questions The night granted to us by the gods is limitless When you have consumed me When you have tasted the bitter And the salt, and sweet spots Of my body When I have seen your soul Shimmering through your sheer, bare body When the taste of our mouths has united We will begin again, my love For the taste of bodies, of souls Change from night to night to night

Will you come, tonight, to taste the New flavours of my body?

Will you take a little of me in you, On you Around you ?

And maybe we mix every night, every night, every morning We will finally reproduce this mystical figure of the androgynous This unique body This unique soul This eternal union of the material and the spiritual For ever Merged A never ending Kiss

Yes And Yes And yes, my love In this century The art of merging Bodies and soul Matter and spirit Dream and reality This ancient alchemy of androgyny Will be known Only to us.

Clarice Lispector

თუკი წიგნს, რომლის დაწერაც სიკვდილამდე აუცილებლად უნდა მოვასწრო, ეს სახელი არ ერქმევა, მისი ერთ-ერთი ყველაზე დიდი თავის სათაური ნამდვილად “our magic” იქნება.

ბრჭყვიალები, რომლებიც შენგან მომყვება ხოლმე, საჭირო დროს მახალისებენ და ისევ ძველებურად ვგრძნობ შენ არსებობას. ხანდახან კი მინდა, რომ ჩემთან ახლოს აგრძელებდე ყოფას, მაგრამ შემთხვევათა უმეტესობაში, ისიც საკმარისია საერთოდ რომ ხარ(და თან ასე).

You: Do you believe in magic?

Me: Yes.

You: What kind of magic?

Me: Us.

You:...

Cover to John Nevil Maskelyne & David Devant’s Our Magic (Collected Works: “The Art in Magic,” “The Theory of Magic,” & “The Practice of Magic”) (Will Owen, 1910).

How can we get close?

I asked the wizard, the wizard of us .