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Painting the Town Blue with a Red Girl
One of the great advantages
of having died is that you can meet anyone: Paulus showed up yesterday in his green house, he opened the door for me from inside his doorstep and invited me in to request that I change the colour of his house from green to blue and then back to green again...
Feeling less obligated now to "real time" consequences, I agreed and then disagreed as the intimate colour match would wash out the intensity of Matilda's green and turquoise eyes... Besides, I told him, the contrast between red and blue is more intense than that of red and green — especially to the hue of her rusty brune.
He asked if her grandfather — Colonel Sigi — didn't also adorn a head of rusty steel wool that doubled as a scrub brush in the kitchen after his wife died...
After painting the inside blue
I went to town and painted the outside blue as well and continued down the street to get a colour match for the entire neighbourhood. This he loved and threw a party for a couple of like-minded friends one of whom was famous from the world of violin virtuosos, and unlike us, could sidle between worlds unaffected by either the living or the dead. The other was less famous from the world of plasma physics, but had achieved no small measure of distinction for his ability to micromanage and nanosize every ens to its constituent parts so that in the end no recognisable chunk of "reality" remained about which a reference could be constructed. Pagi was the name of the former and Pergi was the name of the latter — for short.
Because we invited only red headed females to the party, it was called the Red Headed ball and because Louis Aragon's wife came, he came also with his lover from the Buttes Chaumont. But the toast of the town quickly became neither the illustrious writers nor the painters nor the odd prince from the Roman provinces, but another man at whom everyone marvelled — mouth agape — as if he was a god... And he probably was...
It was rumoured that — unlike Paganinni —
who could sidle between both worlds but live in neither (without money), this man brought each world with him into the other and vice versa so he could live beyond the measure of each, and this, by virtue of a "naked light" in his thyroid... T. S. Eliot resurrected him and it caught the attention of an American doctor living in Switzerland, who recommended him to our ball.
And of course, all the red heads at our ball were married—some of them (on a daily basis) like Pergi and some of them in a manner that was spread over time (and sometimes space) to include a community of concurrent husbands on revolving beds who were more apt to be following the temperal stream themselves owing to their lack of energy, which according to our thyroid specialist was due to missing too many mystery rites.