Monica B.´s Logbook from oPide 112 118 209 (kurti) - kind of an autobiographical-poetic diary. In the fiction the author Monica B. (B = Borboleta = butterfly) is in an unknown place in space, in a mega-city; but of the millions, no one else is alive except her. Typical for the narrator (as for me) is to feel as different people in different places at different times
Behind my Little Dogs almost blind eyes, closed now most of the day, I see his memories which are ours. I purr with him out of contentment. Goals and opinions not always matching, we always knew (and still do) what each other was in.
He was never that much affected by the souls, as he heard them but did not listen to their stupid speeches. When he saw one of them he took a jump, his back fur upright. It is certain, that his soul will immediately go where proper souls go! Nothing will stay like the remnants of all the people in this City.
Of course I am crying now.
My Little Dog helped my Realistic Sense a lot. Alone, I will give me away to my Possibility Sense; as this process has already started, I know what is coming my way.
In all my beauty and sweetness I ramble along streets and boulevards, ascending and descending steps and squeezing through tunnels in residential areas of this giant city left by all bodies; their souls omnipresent.
I am already learning to stroll only the beautiful areas (but I change my definition of beauty often). At large beautiful is what I see wandering with lowered eyes, not the big scary constructions that cost so many lives.
And I am already educating souls to focus on utterances of beauty; or keep quiet. I may possibly change the behavior of some souls as I am trying to change mine; but souls themselves stay as they are; they may only grow and change in earthly life. Right now I enjoy the happiness of feeling one, whole, lonely and free.