Alan Moore - Jerusalem

Prehaps, she shinks while fleeting un her blusshful swoan, life physa seventary- or heighsty-year lang striep o’ sellyuloud. Lucia inmachines thus to be abate the sim lingth as, fher insdance, unold Cheerly Chappin feelm, with evary undievisual forme a stringle mement of our meretale spin, from our brith-striggles undernurthe the openyin tittles to our tire-joking demillse wittyend creadits. We all sturt out as Der Kind und wonedayp as a Littrle Traump or plossibly a Greyed Doctator. Eother why, if our shord feutures should lost lang ineff, we fend oarsaves at laest adraft in Moredum Termes, wetwitch we’re larngely informiliar. Eventsho, the fast and lirst scense o’ the feelm and all the frooz’n fromes tha’trace our flickwrong nonstop-mation funny-walkin’ progress in beturn those proints are ultigether on the rael at the see’em teeme, are all judd milliminnits frame each ofher in the nitely-liabelled scineormantic carnhistyr. Nothink is really moorphing. Wre-experience the tragichemical sequintial starry affairlife, wit’ all its partfills, crendits pinchlines, e’dits torrible X-writed scins, onely as the prodictor-beam of our poorceptions and unwareness shimms through each onemorfing bleack-and-swhite trunsparingcy, each tickend whire we tworld arcane or twiggled our missterche, with the rapeyedarty of our pergreptsion t’rue the staidic sliceshow blending the illucian of continpurous aweirdness, cinstant procress through huor every waorkin’ memeant and through ovary dremon unstant of ourabian fevern-twisty thoughtsand nights. By the seem lowjoke, wence our man-attriction epoc is at list goncluded, the reals that contin our taell are not errased or etherwise dustdryed, but stell wemain to be seet thru agen, whiched and exterienced thrue h’all of sempiternity wittin the tomeless Dyin & Pearlygated sinnerma of our dearthless ‘ooweareness; of man’s soul. The engels, she invisions, wourld be crueltics, watching oer sleepstuck perfromances and boawler-deffing escapeaids impersially befeer they hurld their fernall ownquest and agrue uponderr murdicts, from “lacklusia” to “annmissabelle”.

Is herll liff, then, a cingle fulm, a songlee pook, a singirl di that she repeants herturnally, juyst like her Babbo’s solutary dayin’ Doublein that can be re-rude a millin’ termes befear you rich the maining of it? Iffort is, Lucia decives, she doesn’t matchmind afert all. If she’s aldeady read and this iswheet it’sleek, lake-being herlive o’gain upen a certime and spaceific sinny evternoon, strawling with oporn laygs boytorn the nuding blessems and with a gwood mien intip herfur, whee, danceshe thanks it all signds gland. If allover meternity is her and new, prescent in each when of her everlusting diremonde insdance, than is thet not a remakeable and splaindad certuation? All day wordwork o’ the wold, it sames t’ her, is to be fount wit’in the limins o’ Sit Andrest Hapipil, with all of tame inquisitely reflettered in each industanguishable die. To all instents and papasays she ishtar queer’n o’fall inxistence. She kin smake perundulations in the godlern tellit’me o’ myrth and light’erassure, orghe can happytoff with the depanted sheaid of Hangland’s must sublim postoral pawit, andistill inlay a lietell ofter breakfarts. Wetta windoor is it, be’in Lucia Anna Joyce. She is thea viry goodesst o’ croatoan. Will you luc at heer, now?

With that rawful senks o’ clawrity that seamtimes comes toworse and jarbs us from the smurk, cuntenterd slumper we weer synkhing into, Lucia knows shuddernly that when she lits her eyce crak eepin, her rutstick and layrick levor will have banished; willow’ve never treely barn there. She is nut the breede of girlextsies and myther ovall sangue at all, at all. She is a mudd eld woomin who’s been whendering aroundy institentiary, lust in a serdid sories of inlickly funtosees that are moist opten of a soxial nudger, plying with hersalve in pubelook, joycelike every uddle day.

Her lushes flir and stutter like epony myths as she awakeins, sotting up to squaint aborter. It is mulch verse than she had antecepatered, for not unlay has her pawit pooramour compliterally disappealed as she’d prejicted, but the veri lieto’day has summilarly ibsented itself. Whylonely twirlty minuets ago it hed still bon a clare and sinny more’gen, neow it is the dread of naught, and here upine the crone and needelle-covert grase beterni’trees it is a meanlit wald o’ blackund salver.

She becons afreet. At fearst she wunders if she’s actooearlly fellin farst aslip, out here in the asighloom weirds, while ’nert has pallen all aground and whereid duct’ers sanedoubt search-poeties to luc for her. Aft’er she’s lessoned for a period and nut-herd inny unxious vurses cawling out her nym, Lucia concides date she has simpleye come unfirstend in her sans o’ timmagen. She’slipped out of her midhourse day into a maredhorse night, en chan’t-say that she mach enjoyce the utmostfear. Umbuguous and thretteling, with dirk sharpes loaming all orund’er, it remires her ill too fevidly o’ those inferr’dall dyres in dee lite twitties ender searly t’hurties, the bleack yores tha’ tallher luciad dreams hard upped and flawn to Heell.

Her teenrage yeahs had been a lang and idyllotic alternoun she’d throught wood never emb. Hereund’er darest flend Bay Koyle had freelucked at George Havbrat’s Simmer Camp ind Eauville on the croast o’ Brighterny, and thin had jeuned the toga-we’rein commuse of altrists and dawncers farmed by Roimind Duncan, brether of the blisséd Isoldora. Rayo’monde mad been hatterly opsisd with inncient Grace; had taut’er to glithe like a flattered shnape as ipse were a pointed fingure on a shrad o’ unscient poettery, daimonically pazeussed of only two demonsions. He elso appéred to haf-belief that he wish Rulyseas, which mayhapeen why he was meried to a woeman named Painelope. Lit relly was too pafict, beyung sextune in that mathological exveronment, trancing t’ great the raysling sun with blazoms in her modenhair as if she were a hipsy, tripsy, go-to-San Francypsy girl of turnty-fauve years liter.

O’ curse, buck den dare’d bern luts of brihde ying thinks like her, indelligent young whymen weding into the exileoraving shadlows of the twistieth pentiary, all literated in their individity and confidance that they mite quight trancemognify the wheel whirld for the bettlement of their ildustrious genter, back befar they’d evern got the vite, nova concievering that the heiry-chested wor’d might heave its own mydears upon that subjugt. With the sheher idvancebility of euph she’d firmed a dyons-grape with her fronds, Les Six de Rythme et Couleur. Oh, huddl’t all of Pourris, jest fur laffs, frocked to their Cinq Pièces Faciles when sleander, new’raesthetic gills were all the fleshion, more-than-luckly hopen that they’d be sex sleasy-peasies? Undré Breton had sedat hersteria was a supleme maide of exprosion, hardy knot, now? Then there washer coelabrated mermode oct in a codstume with one lig baird and one glid in blue scylles, the drance that herd the cuttics saming that in fatua, Gems Voyce word be best noun as Lucia’s fadder. Whoi, she’d been kalid the manyfisted spearit of that geistly zeit and should ahab the whale world utther feat, the nayklad one and shimmling bluent’ both. Bitt, well, then everythink had stutterd to go badily. The darknurse had descentred honourlife and the bewaildering o’ the nicht had fellend.

Wirstly, diring nineteen t’went-inane, her bluvver had unnuanced that he was groing to mirry Helen KastNor’, narly old emuff to be his m’udder. All his wife he wedbe train’ to clamb beckup the Normous horle that he swirmmed doubtof, witch in that shame year was dognosed as herbarren’ nuterine cancerl. Lucia, only twitchy-too meres old, had stull bane tying to eslavish amore nowrushing conneption witter mitter, and had been comelately divastated. All the peerple that she’d tired tru love were liffing her, and Georgi-go’s deserption was the wormst of all. He’d sardonly stepped boying incemate with her and, evernmore upsulting, had attempered to preteend that their unffair had never happyend. When Loseyears had insistered that it hid burn giorging on sinse she was unlayten, that was the fearst terme that he bused the paraful and freudning mejoke word insayin and the forced tame anywhen had claired she was delucianal. Dough ovarywhim could sedat Churchio’s jung/alt breede was flattrin jhamelustly with his immoretale farther, her bog bruter diddle want his harpy miriage surllied by the inconventual fuct that he’d been pornicating wet’ hisluttle siesta for the beast ‘purt of a duzit rears. Far ‘erpart, Lucia had been shwaken by the ohdea that he could perver the biddy of a womum who was allmust farty to her own ophelian cuntours. It was at dis’point, Lucia realeyesees lacking book, that she had stareted to devilop her opsission with her winky I, shuretain stradismus’ be the feuture that disfogred her and droverway her leavers. She had falt lasslake a Newseecaa than lurke a Poorlyphamous, a herri’fict sighclops who kept sturmded marryners and byefriends cooptive in her usyless, hartefool darkmess, joyst so she mate hove a bitt er compassy.