brotherâs name was Cloudy, indisputable proof of the madness of the town. He was a registered gardener with all his diplomas in order and had previously worked on the Borromeo familyâs island, the Isola Madre. He was a quiet man, but he too one day went mad and was carried off in the usual padded van to the mental hospital in Varese. The fault lay with a passionate love affair which had broken out among the statues in the park. Absurd? A pata-physical hyperbole? It may be, but for Serene, who had no idea what pataphysics were, it was a tragic business all the same.
I was fond of that gardener so, once a few weeks had passed, I went to visit him in the hospital in Varese together with Giuda and Tajabis, two friends who were both a bit older than me. Serene seemed tranquil enough, as would be expected of someone of that name, and appeared both very happy to see us and keen to confide in us about what had caused him to lose his mind. In the visiting room, he started talking: âIt all began with the creepers growing so wild and thick over the statues in the park that you could hardly make them out. The owner ordered me: âYouâll have to get rid of those creepers, otherwise theyâre going to break the statues to pieces.â
âArmed with scythe, secateurs and saw, I started to clear the creepers away, but gently because you have to be careful not to scratch their skin. Among the statues, there were some copies of Roman originals, but there were so many branches and leaves over them that it was impossible to make out if they were male or female. I started hacking away at the shrubbery at the base, and the feet were the first to emerge. Itâs hard to tell the sex of a statue from its feet. Working my way up, I liberated the legs ⦠long ⦠delicately carved ⦠certainly female ⦠or maybe Apollo, which is more or less the same ⦠the only difference is at the join in the legs, and the lyre.
âAnd in fact it was him, the god of music, with his outsized guitar. Stark naked, except for a strategically placed loincloth ⦠although it was not much good, since you could still make out his thingummy in its entirety ⦠small and discreet. The gods never need to overdo things.
âThe second statue I set to work on was a female. Beautiful she was, pushing up through wisteria and trailing plants. Snip, snip, and legs like columns appear ⦠pubic region ⦠thighs ⦠buttocks ⦠magnificent! Carrying on up, the stomach and tits emerged. My hands were shaking as I revealed those two lovely curves. She seemed to be breathing. Finally the neck and face, mouth and eyes began to peep out ⦠she smiled and looked at me ⦠at me!⦠as if to say âThank you for rescuing me!â
âSo I said to myself, am I mad? Whatâs come over me? I felt I wanted to caress her all over, and I ran my fingers and hands over those cheeks of hers, so soft as to make me go all fluttery. Who knows what goddess she was? Perhaps she was a nymph ⦠yes, she must be a nymph.
âI was standing there in a state of enchantment when my eyes happened to drift over to the right and I saw Apollo staring at me, or more precisely gazing at the nymph. Whatâs going on? I hadnât even noticed that his face was turned in this direction. I went up to him, took a look at the join of the neck and touched it. It was warm, in fact it was burning as though the stone had been twisted. Must be because of the friction with the branches which I had just cleared away. I look back over at the nymph; she had one hand over her breasts ⦠and she seems to have turned away a little, as though she were embarrassed at the too intrusive stare from Apollo. Come on! Thatâs enough! Iâm going off my head. This is turning into a nightmare. Time to get on with freeing the next sculpture, the third.
âItâs much easier
I was fond of that gardener so, once a few weeks had passed, I went to visit him in the hospital in Varese together with Giuda and Tajabis, two friends who were both a bit older than me. Serene seemed tranquil enough, as would be expected of someone of that name, and appeared both very happy to see us and keen to confide in us about what had caused him to lose his mind. In the visiting room, he started talking: âIt all began with the creepers growing so wild and thick over the statues in the park that you could hardly make them out. The owner ordered me: âYouâll have to get rid of those creepers, otherwise theyâre going to break the statues to pieces.â
âArmed with scythe, secateurs and saw, I started to clear the creepers away, but gently because you have to be careful not to scratch their skin. Among the statues, there were some copies of Roman originals, but there were so many branches and leaves over them that it was impossible to make out if they were male or female. I started hacking away at the shrubbery at the base, and the feet were the first to emerge. Itâs hard to tell the sex of a statue from its feet. Working my way up, I liberated the legs ⦠long ⦠delicately carved ⦠certainly female ⦠or maybe Apollo, which is more or less the same ⦠the only difference is at the join in the legs, and the lyre.
âAnd in fact it was him, the god of music, with his outsized guitar. Stark naked, except for a strategically placed loincloth ⦠although it was not much good, since you could still make out his thingummy in its entirety ⦠small and discreet. The gods never need to overdo things.
âThe second statue I set to work on was a female. Beautiful she was, pushing up through wisteria and trailing plants. Snip, snip, and legs like columns appear ⦠pubic region ⦠thighs ⦠buttocks ⦠magnificent! Carrying on up, the stomach and tits emerged. My hands were shaking as I revealed those two lovely curves. She seemed to be breathing. Finally the neck and face, mouth and eyes began to peep out ⦠she smiled and looked at me ⦠at me!⦠as if to say âThank you for rescuing me!â
âSo I said to myself, am I mad? Whatâs come over me? I felt I wanted to caress her all over, and I ran my fingers and hands over those cheeks of hers, so soft as to make me go all fluttery. Who knows what goddess she was? Perhaps she was a nymph ⦠yes, she must be a nymph.
âI was standing there in a state of enchantment when my eyes happened to drift over to the right and I saw Apollo staring at me, or more precisely gazing at the nymph. Whatâs going on? I hadnât even noticed that his face was turned in this direction. I went up to him, took a look at the join of the neck and touched it. It was warm, in fact it was burning as though the stone had been twisted. Must be because of the friction with the branches which I had just cleared away. I look back over at the nymph; she had one hand over her breasts ⦠and she seems to have turned away a little, as though she were embarrassed at the too intrusive stare from Apollo. Come on! Thatâs enough! Iâm going off my head. This is turning into a nightmare. Time to get on with freeing the next sculpture, the third.
âItâs much easier
Similar Books
