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CALLASSA
Invicta Veritate
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Octavian had given me the impression that he was asking Maria a
question for which he already knew the answer. By his arm was a
roll of what looked like paper. It was the original parchment of
Maria’s diary. Upon his arrival they had been looking at it together.
This is the play that Maria wrote, a portrait of our lives together
as Roman citizens. It is our story, of Ariadne Sabinus, the winged woman
and her son, Dio. The reason that she has never been able,
until today, to bring herself to look at it is because it tells of
the brutal circumstance in which we both died. It also tells the
truth about immortal gods. (Equally it could be said that it told of aliens).
Maria could have asked Octavian for the diary long ago, but I
know the contents therein remind her of both our tragedy and recent
separateness. She was my mother of ancient parentage, just as she
has been my mother during this, her present lifetime. The play
represents fifteen years of our magical life together at Rome.
Octavian ensured the safe keeping of the play upon our deaths and
beyond. It was concealed beneath what are now the ruins of the
Temple of Jupiter Capitolene. Now, it is obvious to me that she is
going to use this controversial document as a vehicle for telling
people something they may not wish to know, namely those she doesn’t
like and vice-versa. Across the world this constitutes a great many.
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Extract. Big Eyes and Bluebell Woods. Callassa
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“Let me explain something, as I am translating the first scene,
titled, ‘In the Garden of Paradise’. This does allow an insight
into our real identities, as ‘unhuman beings’. But as you, clever
boy, might already know, the imagery from this world is used by us
so to explain ourselves. In reality, there can be no similarities
but it has to make sense as a play. It’s the limit that all
immortal beings have thrust against while attempting to describe the
rapture that exists outside human perceiving. Anyway, as your
expression suggests that you do know it so, in this first scene
we discuss our leaving paradise to go to the Divine City, named
Roma. There, I would become a singer, and a very special singer,
as I would be able to show, through my voice, the Mother Creator.
The spirit of beauty gazing upon all forms, mortal and immortal.”
“I shan’t interrupt,” I said. (I was reading as she was
explaining. I can read Latin, but I wanted her exegesis of the
words because spoken by her, they would become alive in a myriad
special ways).
“Good, are you listening?” she asked me.
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Extract. Big Eyes and Bluebell Woods. Callassa
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CALLASSA
Invicta Veritate
MMXXIV
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