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CALLASSA
Invicta Veritate
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Baths of the Emperor Caracalla
Marcus Aurelius Severus Antoninus Augustus
188 – 217
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THE COSMICALLA
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Neque Lucis Novae Aurora Tam Superba Tam Decora Victa
Tuo Surget Splendor
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My name is David Lawrence. I was born in the county of Yorkshire, England,
I am twenty years old. Today feels a trite cold, which is to be expected for late Autumn.
A few moments ago I think there was a smattering of rain against the window.
I don’t know for certain because the curtains are closed, but it sounded as though there was rain.
I can begin describing this house where I live as being almost immersed by tall trees.
These are predominantly silver birch and oak, with willows down by the small lake.
The house is old, as houses go, having been built over two centuries past.
Everything within is likewise, old. To find the house, a visitor has first to discover
the not very obvious entry road and then be led through and toward an asphalt frontage.
It is an uncommon house because most houses are neither old or hidden.
Therefore it’s an untypical place for a young person such as me to live.
But I would say that most people aren’t so fortunate though I know many hanker
for what is more up to date, is more in touch with the modern world and so forth.
I didn’t begin this way, not by any stretch of the imagination. ‘Imagination’ …
What a word this is. I am in the mood for reflecting on the past, for reliving the journey
I made to here. I have to say, it is a journey that plays havoc with what is regarded
as common-place, a journey that takes the word imagination and casts it into the air.
Yes, into the air to fall and to fade into nothingness.
Reflecting is not an uncommon thing for me to do because my journey (I like that word)
was and still is, absolutely fantastic.
I will just say that connecting up with what most people would assume to be a character
of science-fiction is a contrary thing to do. I mean, for a person who is surrounded by the
classically ornamented contents of this house. For example, the four poster bed and its tapestry
canopy has a very obvious presence and fits with the historical context of the house.
The armoires and dresser finished in marble are equally earthly in their heavy statement.
Not to forget the oil paintings of romantic scenes that adorn the walls.
Likewise the dark stone that was used to build the house,
the surrounding trees and the rain now falling upon them.
So, for me to introduce, in addition, something greater in significance, something that
intuition might reject. (I mentioned the words ‘science-fiction’)
To include this, what most, if not all, regard as more to do with celestial myth, hearsay,
exaggeration, product of inventiveness, imagination, even lies and so forth,
is an odd thing to do.
I agree, because I think it is odd too, while at the same time,
I don’t agree, because I absolutely cannot, simply because what
ostensibly is ‘science-fiction’ is undeniable present. Yes, it is.
I have to say, just to add, that this is not fiction nor be these the tenets of any science.
Therefore thinking in terms of science-fiction will need reevaluation. You’ll see!
I can hear the ravens calling.
There are many of these wonderful birds living in the dark and dense cover
that the trees make for them.
Their sounds enter the house even while the windows are closed.
Though they are perpetually present I don’t always hear
their sound. I have seen all kinds of birds, of all colours, all sounds. I like birds.
It’s an early morning of October. 1985. As I said, I think it’s raining.
The rain I always find makes for heaviness about things.
Perhaps it’s because of the atmosphere that sits beneath the clouds and presses down,
heavy and mellow, mellow and heavy? I wonder whether the intention
is to put a person in a reflective mood? I mean so to hear the birds?
I am alone for the day. Well, until late afternoon when ‘she’
is due to return. Who is she? This is the reason for my being
deep in thought, while lying here and upon this canopied bed. She.
The woman. ‘The Cosmicalla’. That’s her designation. Yes, the Cosmicalla and
it is unusual, but so is she unusual. I’m smiling at the thought of where
the coming hours of recollection will lead.
I know I will be led close to her, even though she is absent.
Perhaps I’ll get to know a different nuance of her? That I might
learn or discover what I previously missed, there, while among the rivers and the fields,
the places and the people of my dreams, the child’s dreams?
While among the contents that can never grow old? The contents that
are fantastic and though the life that holds them is by necessity destined to age?
I have been living here for just over one year, in this, what I can describe as a
magically charged time. For me to arrive at this house from where I began means
starting very differently, in the place I was born, among the people I knew then and what
I was doing. Importantly, it means starting with what was there and how it carried me
to this place, carried, as does a winged body carry its possession.
I like my prior analogy because I do like birds. I could just as easily say what
began as a childhood fascination and after a short time did grab me and
then sling me into the clouds. It didn’t stop there. I am referring to a certain female,
more akin to those one sees in comic books, fantasy art and such,
a female whose features and abilities are super-exaggerated, super-human.
She was there in my past and I have to say, she is here now, the Cosmicalla.
Believe me.
Earlier this day I was reading a magazine. It contained articles about this and that.
I wasn’t really interested, though there was a statement (among many) regarding the
place of science within the quest for understanding of ‘space’, the
prospective ability to travel into space and discover new worlds and the life,
expected to be thereupon. All is a challenge of science to shift the human race
toward discovery. It’s not a picture of the future anyone can ignore because
this ‘quest’ is ingrained into the fabric of life. The space stations, the
satellites, the landings. I suppose ever since there was a man upon the Moon,
it has been there. I thought it was interesting because what I read fits nowhere
with who I mentioned prior as, the Cosmicalla . . . Cosmicalla. . . Cosmicalla. . .
I suppose it’s not helpful at this point to claim this or that about her.
Though I will say; that scientists may move along in what they create.
They may seek in their creating and may create in their seeking. I enjoy word play.
However, I want to paint a portrait of the Cosmicalla and the context in which we met.
My doing so brings me close to her during her absence, as I said and fills the time
while she is away. But picturing her will also serve to describe what she really is,
a multi-dimensional form, connected and disconnected to human time.
Disconnected to my time and to everyone’s time.
Welcome to the unbelievable and what should not be true.
The unknown is everything.
Come, be with the Cosmicalla.
I shall start at the beginning, during my very different life.
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The Cosmicalla Electronic Book
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(c) MMXXV Callassa. Extract from The Cosmicalla
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CALLASSA. CALLASSA
THE COSMICALLA
Invicta Veritate
