...a deathly serenade...

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
AA
meaning the moment you lose the illusion of
being eternal. In essence he had lost the illusion
of life having any meaning and in death the scene
he set mirrored his Art, in my eyes; beauty not a
whore, but misunderstood by him, I whispered to
myself. Yashu failed and is why he is guilty. I
looked at his triptych and saw the unfinished
masterwork, Heaven, still in the same state it was
in the last time I saw it, sat next to two more
canvas, one was sea blue with a depiction of a
character that fails me and another blood red
with the words: beauty is a whore written on it.
This is all I remember. More literary I saw this as
undecipherable in the desire to understanding
why. How the triptych got onto auction at
Christie’s confused me also, but with heavy news
coverage of Yashu’s death, they sold for more
than I can remember; I’m sure Mary Bine was
able to subdue her wailing to see that this auction
occurred, and The Powers would see to this too:
A prayer here, a prayer there, everywhere a
sermon. The funeral came and went, though The
Professor was noticeably tearless, particularly in
comparison to those shed for The General. I
attended the funeral but was in strife from the
cold war. Accusing me of being estranged The
Administrator had set in motion her departure,
threatening divorce in an argument in the car on
the way back to Islington with Leila quietly sat,
distant. Still living in Islington, it was perhaps
after a year or so had passed from the time she
had moved upstairs and Leila had decided to
move back to Bethnal Green deeming the rent as
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