The young girl embarrassed admits to her mother that a boy is courting her. She feels too small.
— He asked me if I loved him.
— What did you answer?
Deep silence. The young girl looks at her mother. A long worried look.
— How do you know if you love?
— When it happens to you, you will know... (source)dialogue excerpt from Indochine, French drama film directed by Régis Wargnier, released in 1992.
Thus we all doubt. It is necessary, one says, for youth to happen. Without old age becoming weary, I would add.
Change of scenery backwards to the former gods, the famous terraformers. Here are two beings among the most powerful of those who made us. I don’t give them any names, they have a thousand. First the Goddess. She directs everything on this planet she made. But the time of cloning is over. The Goddess has chosen a brilliant young geneticist to succeed in the impossible: creating the fifth humanity. Ours.
At his knees, the young man doesn’t dare to look up. She says: “Look at me. Do you know what I expect from you? A feat. To use your gift to create a new humanity. Evolved beings who carry within them the seed of the gods.
— Evolved ones!? My Goddess, such confidence honors me! But I am only a student still …
“You will put in their blood a heady perfume, you will create as many perfumes as human characters. I mean by character the subtle qualities of a being, their tastes and colors, the emotions that run through them, those they know too well and those they dream to discover.
You will put in their blood the spark that makes them unique. Each of them must be unique. The cloning machine has gone too far, it’s time to embrace diversity. Each of them must seem sparkling and pearly in the undifferentiated crowd before. We have only made too many beasts.
You will have to create possible goddesses and gods.
You will put in the blood of each one the complex attractions, the irresistible thirst, the enthusiasm of a beating heart, the dream of a blue moon, pure lightning and the golden flash. You shall place in the blood of each one a sacred receptacle, a mother-of-pearl shell, a sheathed drapery, an ochre case, so that she may be moved by its male complements and that he who must fertilize her may be naked before her, known from birth, recognized in all innocence.
— Well … How would I?
What will be in their blood will shine like a comet, powerful like a weapon, touching like a tear, gripping like a charm.
What will be in their blood will be seen through the eyes of the soul, sharp as a blade, shouting as one proclaims, serene as one calms. Impossible not to feel this irresistible call, this throbbing attack of mad desire, this embrace before having touched, this orgasm before having loved.
What will be in their blood alone will guarantee us divine heirs, offspring worthy of the name of man, goddesses adorned with the sweet name of woman, children of kings, lineages of choice.
Magic must be combined with science to obtain this efficiency that the future so badly needs. Soon we will leave. The decree from above will not delay. Are we going to leave this world to its wars? We have created it from scratch, each of our actions aiming to embellish it, each of our projects seeking to enrich it.
But it was only for our use. Created to fulfill our good pleasure. Designed to inspire the greatest desire. If we leave, what are we going to leave on earth, if not despair and regret? Hatred and desire for death? Game of violence and detestation? This is how we wanted it for our selfish games. If we leave, everything will end up in the shadows.
— O beloved Goddess, without the light of our Eden, their poor star will be nothing but a dark star.
Very dark, you’re right. Let it not be so. You only have little time for the impossible to which you are bound. Go and be effective.
— O Goddess, how would I do it? I haven’t the faintest idea. You made me chief geneticist, but no one comes close to your head in this matter. It’s you who designed the herd so far and I…
The herd, you said it. Let it be no longer that way. I have been watching you for ages, never have I experienced genetic engineering as sharp as yours. You don’t know, you say? Do not fear. You will know. Thus I willed it. Obey, succeed, you will be my chosen one. We will sleep together.
— Goddess, O my Goddess, I don’t know what to answer. Such happiness seems to me…
Shut up and go. My desire accompanies you.
— I did what the flame said. After two fragile attempts, a flower came to life, an exquisite child named Adama. I am smitten, or almost: all my fires go to the Goddess who made me her lover. My Goddess kept her promise and my heart is in joy.
The flame is my soul, I am its lover. Time passes through our fingers fond of gallant games.
But desire and pleasure have not slowed down my ardour. I continue my creative work. Magnificent beings: Adama was followed by a whole procession of pretty girls, some of whom have divine beauty. I am only repeating what my Goddess says.
Yet I do not see our future in pink. My Goddess expects too much from me. She is my flame, she is my soul, but our idyll cannot satisfy her for long. The flame has so many things to do, too many threads to weave, too much work to direct and so many people to spare.
Suddenly the flame told me:
-Protect me.
A silence. And this:
-Protect me from myself.
What I did. Assiduously. Constantly. Resolutely. Time lost: it gave nothing. Smothering its glow, the flame left me.
* *
*
Suddenly the stars fell silent as one kills. Suddenly I suffocate. What didn’t I open his cage? Offered the tribute? Served his age and without carnage? Without this mirage and these ravages? Without arbitration? Suddenly rage is my shipwreck.
Suddenly the phenomenal weight of my past mistakes fell on my stupid head. I succumbed. Alive, I am deceased. Wandering, I go endlessly. My hunger is tensing. My heart is failing. I go before hell or high water. The stop is painful with blood curdling. Frightful, frightful, I’m unravelling myself. At the far end of the rift, time deletes and I stall. In fragments, the hull of the drunken boat bursts, the shell of the beautiful broken novel crumbles. Uncomfortable conclusion.
*
* *
I am an orphan of Her and myself. Son of my pain, I wander and I cry. The flame is no longer in me. It burns elsewhere.
Where?
I don’t know. Very far.
* *
*
The end of the world is not set back enough for the flame that kills me, which I want, which is no longer, I cannot. His desertion is a punishment worse than the death of the body. Without the flame, I lost the North. I no longer remember Alcor. I am the prey of my remorse.
What can no longer become becomes more than hateful. Execrable. A abomination. The sum of our detestations. We could kill the object we loved. Kill the flame. Dry the Source. We could cancel the universe. This planet understood. This sad planet not clear. I lost the flame that burned in my body. Future dead. Twisted fate. Place remorse.
If a woman bled to conceive you and bled to bring you into the world, blood bond, it’s obvious. With her, you have it even without that, the link of blood for a hundred. If a midwife got bad blood during your difficult birth, bad blood bond. If someone you love has made your heart bleed, share a blood bond with you. If you have tortured the heart and the guts of someone who loves you, blood bond. If you bleed all four veins to raise your kid from the streets or the dunes, he is linked to you by blood.
Each blood shed, each wounded blood, each stained blood, each blurred blood, each wet blood, each blood avenged, each blood exchanged, each blood poured out, each blood watered, each blood seen, each blood read, each blood on, each blood drunk, each blood naked, each blood known, each blood that comes, each welcome blood makes connections even stronger than heredity.
The Source that flows within you is It. The Flame carries you with It on the wing of your blood. Without its blood, you are nothing. Without your blood, she has nothing. She is fine. She goes far away. She comes from it.
the night so long
looks like a gong
the night too short
sucking the sap
of the Hmong shepherds
in Along Bay
this day that rises
has nothing of a dream
Halong Bay (or Along Bay) is a vast marine area in the South China Sea. With an area of more than 43,000 hectares (1,500 km2), the largest marine karst in the world is located east of Hạ Long and east-northeast of Cat Ba Island, in the Gulf of Tonkin.
This incredible labyrinth has hundreds of islands sumptuously carved by erosion. It was once the object of a curse whose origin seems to be lost in the mists of time: in Vietnamese, Ha Long means ‘the descent of the dragon’. Dragons were gods for the Asians as well as for the Hebrews. These flying gods are all-powerful men-eaters. One can imagine that one of them was accustomed to go down to this place to feast on the victims who were abandoned there to feed him, so that he could spare the rest of the population.
It is in this legendary setting that Indochine, the magical film mentioned at the opening of the article.French dramatic film with Catherine Deneuve, directed by Régis Wargnier, ends in 1992.
Anna, the Blessed Virgin and Mother Goddess, has lived so long she has no age.
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