How can I describe perfection? Befitting words haven’t been invented for something that doesn’t exist. Perfection is a utopian concept. We usually accept that nothing is perfect. Yet, I submit, here in this story, that it can exist when one is completely in love, even with the back of her hands, her elbows, her knees, her navel, each one of her toes, everything that’s a part of Jenny, Jennifer, my new love. Oh I loved her for more than a couple of years now, but I couldn’t act upon it given my age. She’s 38 and I’m 57, and 19…

What a biased confrontation is that involving a prick versus a pussy! Laugh out loud, indeed! Can you hear me laughing? Even M can hear me inside. Which narrator I am can only be guessed. Even I don’t know who I am. The conflict between M and Patrick has gone out of hand. They’re basically leaving us narrators to write whatever we want. One of us, I forget who, is in charge of wood. You know, writing about trees before they magically become shelves. Another is in charge of AI. He seems to be having a blast, but he’s running…

This is the eighth part of the tale. I have yet to decide on the last. The first, second, third, fourth, fifth, sixth, and seventh parts are all required to follow this continuing story, and each part is still around a five-minute read. Both Anthi Psomiadou and R Tsambounieri Talarantas have graciously agreed to become fictional characters in this special visit by Eléni to Greece, where she had hoped to speak to Goddess Athena and find the missing Patrick. The continuing story spans the rest of her two-week visit to blue sky-and-white cloud Greece. O Greece! Where have you been…

The black ash (Fraxinus nigra) is a deciduous tree that commonly grows in swamps and other water-logged soils away from the two-legged monsters, though another monster, diminutive in size, found a way into its hideaway. The black ash is native all over eastern Canada and north eastern USA, in provinces like Newfoundland and Quebec and states like Virginia and Illinois.

The black ash can grow up to 20 metres (66 feet) in height, with a trunk of around 60 cm (24 inches) in width. The bark of the black ash tree is dark grey in colour and corky in texture…

Hello Athens, my new home
I’ve been away for much too long
There was a vision softly flowing
Made me yearn for you while dreaming
And this reverie was playing in my heart
All your love
Within my love for Athena

In sleepless nights I wrote a lot
About Anthi and Greek gods
And goddesses and Rigópoula
And Eléni leaving Cryssarina
When my goddess became all my love and all my life
Without a lack
Turning Greece into my love

And in my sleep I did not know Twelve deities who will not go With Athena they always lived She…

Tu me plais comme ça, oui, toute moite
Avec ton air de maladroite

Comme une belle pleureuse sans mouchoir
Hélas, tu deviens plutôt chaste
Atterrante avec ton sourire
Troublante avec ta coupe de reine
Têtue quand je te cherche toute nue
Envoutante sans faire rien de plus

Mais je t’aime sans répit ni fin
Avec ou sans amour en faim

Cherche-tu à m’abattre devant toi
Hercules lui-même ne pourra pas
Attendre ta délivrance de joie
T’aime-tu à ce point, ma chère chatte
Tu n’aperçois pas ma défaite
Et l’amour que je te souhaite

I like you like that, yes, all…

According to Greek mythology (every religion is a mythology whether one accepts it or not), the creation of the olive tree was the result of a contest between Poseidon, God of the Sea, and Athena, Goddess of Wisdom (I love her), as to who would become the protector of a newly built city in Attica (the historical region of Greece). The city would then be named after the god or goddess who gave the citizens the most useful and divine gift. With his trident, Poseidon struck a rock and water rushed out of it, creating a spring of salty aqua…