I woke up in a damp dark cave, trembling to the last remains of my will and being, resonating between the end of what seemed now like a dream - a very deadly beautiful dream. The walls were coloured an even deeper shade of black, of red ochre. Beyond I heard the breath of some rough beast, and my beatific terror drew me further. Greens and oranges flashed in my eyes as they adjusted to the dim light, my will slowly moving to the end of a fingertip as I touch the wall, which seems to be breathing. It feels as flesh and responded to my touch. A thick damp steam emitted from above me, burning my skin even as the beast receded back into the low ceiling above me. My sheer arousal and terror reached up above me and found an opening and, pushing my way inside I discovered that I wasn't pushing at all, but being pulled completely by its undulating rhythm from which I could not distinguish my self from the life pulling me in. I felt at home for the first time in my life (and what was that life but everything here now?) as a warm elixir of what must of been this body's flesh and blood engulfed me. Drinking, hungrily, I too, then, became as a beast, moving forward to the escalating rhythm and writhing of what felt, now, like my body. Transformed before I would be aware, from my tomb to my womb, I raged against my sheer dumbness. The blood and water welcomed my rage, fed it even, as with every breath of my movement I became more, now seeming to envelop my home, this other body, into my own. Nothing could stop me until I met the face of my terror once again, and kissed it on the tongue. All at once, I was inside and out. We warmed and fed each other from above and below, the two being indistinguishable to either of us, two lovers, two bodies of flesh and light rocking back and forth for what seemed like forever - there was nothing else but us... --Sun and Earth.

A spontaneous story of creation, a spontaneous myth/fable of the late 20^th century - the story of my blood - psychotropic artifact.