Eléni & M Move to Athens - Part 20

This new series has its history in the form of several short stories, several poems, and a 13-part series that is linked at the bottom via Part 19 of this series. Anthi Psomiadou has graciously agreed—no one can deny it—to play the role of a fictional character also called, Anthi, as she already did in the first series, but as Anthi Kanéna in this series, which currently has no foreseen end, though the last part exists in M’s mind. I said it before and I will say it again, namely that each time that I now see flowers, I can only think of Anthi (“flowers” in Greek).

[T]hose who willed the means and wished the ends are not absolved from guilt by the refusal of reality to match their schemes. Christopher Hitchens, from The Trial of Henry Kissinger

Goddess Athena is not guilty of anything as far as I know, and she does not scheme, so why did I choose to quote the undeniable Hitchens on this topic. It is quite simple. All mortals are guilty of something and all mortals tend to scheme, sometimes unaware that they do, sometimes in full kill mode. Are any of the other four main characters (i.e., Anthi, Eléni, M, and Patrick) exempt like Athena? Not if they are mortal. But are they mortal? Do characters continue to live in the story after the writer is done writing or is dead? Yes, and as long as someone reads it, or even as long as the text exists in some form. Shakespeare, whoever the Bard was, is dead, but Hamlet is practically immortal. I can imagine someone saying that Shakespeare is also immortal. Only the Bard’s texts are. The individual is long gone, and whatever energy was emitted, if any at all, when death took hold, is gone to any of an infinite number of possibilities. The universe is too vast for the human mind, so luckily we have mathematics to represent it in more finite terms, and physics (astronomy and astrophysics) to make sense of it. All fictional characters are thus like Athena, and any transgression that they may commit is carried out by the writer. They may seem to have a life of their own, but anything that they say or do can only come from the writer.

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What is a day without a night? It is long and often plagued by sleeplessness. What is a night without a day? It is long and often blessed with dreams. We wanted to dream again and all the time, Anthi and I, Anthi and M. But to dream, we had to sleep, and we could not sleep all day, though we looked at each other, smiling and wishing that we could. I never liked sleeping and always considered it a waste of precious time, no matter its necessity for an optimal health. If we sleep for about a third of our lives, we could forego that time from our age. For example, someone 39 years old is actually 26. And this has nothing to do with wanting to be younger, since our appearance changes. It is arbitrary, of course, but the lack of consciousness seems to negate the notion of aging, at least for me. I even asked the Goddess of Wisdom about it during our late breakfast, actually brunch.

Ma déesse, mon amour (My goddess, my love), I began in French, and I do not know why. Perhaps because “amour” feels stronger than “love” with its two syllables compared to one.

“Oui, mon cher (Yes, my dear) M! What is on your mind?” Athena replied partly in French.

Always you, my Athena, and the two women sitting with us, my Eléni and our Anthi. I only think of you these days. What else is there to think about? I love you and I think about you.

“I know, my dear M. I know how you feel about us. What do you want to know?”

Do you consider the time that we spend sleeping as time we should count in our age? I refuse to even entertain the idea that you are over 2,000 years old when you appear to be in your 30s and even late 20s. I know that it is different for a goddess, but I still have a hard time reconciling it.

“Oh, my M! To me it does not matter, but I understand that to you it does. You need to sleep to live and thus sleep should always count. But I still see your point. But I know that it is not the question that you really want to ask me, especially that now you love sleep. I know that it started as soon as you settled in Greece. It must be the Greek air, the Greek atmosphere, or even me. Which is it, M?”

I will love you always, my Athena. How can I not? I know that I love you more than my life, which has only become worthwhile recently, after I fell in love with Eléni, and then you, and then our Anthi. I finally found meaning, and only a woman can give meaning to one’s life. And I have three women to love; one goddess and two women to be precise. But you are right, of course. My real question is somewhat controversial in some circles, though I see no issue with it. Patrick and Eléni may agree as far as I know. I am referring to the concept of the soul. Many mortals swear by it, yet scientific knowledge has shown no such entity or energy so far. There are a few, or just one scientist who proposed an explanation for the existence of the soul, but his experiment has to be validated and replicated, which has not happened yet. Moreover, what he may think to have understood has already been dismissed before using the same instruments that he has used to “show” his so-called evidence. Science would surely embrace such a truth if it existed, but it does not, yet the believers in it abound, like they do throughout history. I guess that it does not really matter since they may still be right while living better lives believing in a soul for each human, and science can continue to look for more interesting truths. I guess that it was not a question, after all.

“I have nothing to add on the matter, my M. My wisdom does not apply to your new science. I will learn of it as time passes. Patrick has already shown me so much. Like you, he does not preach. He only presents the data, the facts, allowing me to understand and decide. Only those who lack data can be afraid, or dismayed, or even become dangerous. Some also do not care. The truth shall set you free only works with those that believe in freedom, like you and Patrick. Freedom above all, you always say. I know. I read your words. I know that you even respect and love them, all those believers, and even “envy” their certitude when you always knew that the only certainty is death, nothing else. But I will reveal that only the Gods have souls and thus their immortality. Mortals do not have souls and thus their limited existence.”

Thank you, Patrick, for showing our goddess the beauty of science! It is the second most beautiful thing after a woman. Our genes rule, whether we like it or not. I cannot believe that it is still daylight. Winter will be better with its long nights. I used to like the day, but now I love the night. The Moon and the stars are more beautiful in Greece. Am I right, Anthi, to think thus?

“It is true, M, but it is even truer since all three of you moved to Greece,” Anthi replied, with my love in her heart.

I suspect that you feel the same, my goddess.

“Come here so I can kiss you,” Athena said, kissing me on the mouth as soon as I was beside her and as she always does. Her kiss is impossible to describe, so I will not even try. Anthi’s kiss is very similar but I am biased and most of her kisses occur in a dream. O Anthi, I sighed with anticipation, looking at the sky that refused to darken. I used to love the Sun, but now I prefer the Moon and the stars. Only a woman can change one thus.

Captain Chloros took us to a spot we had neglected to stop at before, allowing us to swim with fish who seemed to sense that a deity was with them in the sea. We relaxed for the rest of the evening, Anthi and I looking at the time that also refused to budge any faster. We had a few shots of tsipouro but kept them at a minimum in case it could negatively affect our dream. It was after midnight when we finally fell asleep, each one in their cabin but as close as we could get within a dream.

This time, I was M throughout the dream. I tasted everything of Anthi that I could. The problem was her face. I could not detach myself from her mouth, and her eyes beckoned me to stay. I begged her to let me go below, but she insisted on more endless kisses which I adored, but her pussy was right there, obviously ready for my love. Wet and ready, I kept thinking. Anthi Kanéna has a body to die for. And then I remembered her breasts. They were there from the beginning, but a dream is not like reality. Things tend to suddenly appear. How do I describe them? There were two. In a dream, there can also be only one. The one breast that stole the dream. I started with her right breast, unable to stop kissing and licking it, until I noticed the left breast, unable to stop kissing and licking it as well. It was like a gentle circle, from breast to breast like being possessed. Her belly suddenly beckoned and then her toes and then her ears and then her nose. I was all over her, like someone famished for flesh. Anthi’s skin was hot like my mind. I wanted to eat her at one point, biting into her buttocks and then her thighs. More, she kept saying, more M. O yes, my beautiful Anthi. Your words are my swords. Your body is my life. Your mind can take mine. I only want to bathe in yours. I will skip some of the other details since they may shock people who are easily shocked. The Sun came too soon again, but we knew that the Moon will rise later for everyone, feeling that she had a special place for us in one of her craters.

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I thank Anthi Psomiadou for her continued support and kindness, which also involves comments, suggestions, and insightful additions that render this story even more unusual than it may already be or seem to. She has become indispensable, and while the Anthi character has very little to do with her, I sometimes feel as if they are one and the same, which may add a feeling of authenticity to the story. Every fictional character is generally based on someone real. I only know the real Anthi through her words, which may be sufficient at times for the edification of a character, and a principal one in this case. It may seem easier to represent one’s self, like Patrick or M writing about their fictitious selves, but it is much more difficult, and probably the hardest.

Finally, Mr. Mean Eyes should remember that this is a piece of fiction which does not apply to his adopted mode of soul-at-all-cost existence, and that commenting meanly about my comments to others around my actual comments is frankly harassment. I do not pay attention to it anymore but it does not seem to stop. I basically cannot challenge the existence of the soul or of free will and thus have almost no freedom in these matters. Science matters more than anything that you believe, Mean Eyes, whether you like it or not. By the way, even this paragraph can be fiction.

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