| Bio |
He grew hard, watching.There was the sound of a great drumming.Can there have been drums?Would it not have attracted attention?It must have been a dream.Four young men crawled on all fours in front of a woman in a scarlet robe.Her eye sockets were empty, red and raw.There was a grandeur to her step, a certainty in her blindness.The other women prostrated themselves, kneeling and full body, before her.She began to speak, and they to respond.As in a dream, he understood their words, although his Romanian was not good and it was impossible they were speaking English.And yet he understood.She said, Is one prepared?They said, Yes.She said, Bring him forward.A young man walked into the center of the circle.He wore a crown of branches in his hair and a white cloth tied at his waist.His face was peaceful.He was the willing sacrifice that would atone for all the others.She said, You are weak and we are strong.You are the gift and we are the owners.You are the victim and we are the victors.You are the slave and we are the masters.You are the sacrifice and we are the recipients.You are the son and we are the Mother.Do you acknowledge that it is so?All the men in the circle looked on eagerly.Yes, they whispered.Yes, yes, please, yes, now, yes.And Tunde found himself muttering it with them.Yes.
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