I stayed inside the villa

where my friend lived

drinking home-made cola

sheltered from that

incredible afternoon sun


Listening to Igor


Let's go back a few weeks,

said Igor

Can you smell the fragrances

of spring?


I could


Behold, said Igor,

the Rite of Spring

on the vast Taiga

where virgins are

sacrificed for the

greater good

of a rich and

satisfying crop


Can you see it?


I could


Then listen!



I heard thunder strike

till the earth rattled

Horses and warriors

clash together

in crescendos

of bloodied

flesh against flesh

And the rain pouring down

in endless streams

washing every good

and bad deed away



When it was over

I had to go out

and let the sun

sting my face