Through the fog that cobwebbed Edi’s eyes, Martin’s figure seemed to widen at times condensing in concentric circles immediately after, as if his body was made out of smoke. Sounds felt filtered through a handkerchief.

Edi pulled himself into a building’s narrow lobby and tried to remove the kit from his pocket. It slipped out of his hands and on the asphalt which seemed like foam to Edi’s eyes, becoming shortly a uniform paste. He bent to pick it up. His head was dangerously spinning and Edi knew what was to follow. Ambulance ... grey hospital hallways, the absence of consciousness after the detox... his family reproaches and Roxy’s opprobrium.

He was in no condition to use a syringe so he grabbed the sachet with the little brown powder left over from his last dose. There was neither the time nor the place for the ritual of a regular injection.

Edi heard Martin yell something unintelligible towards him. He knew he wanted to stop him from this. Martins grey jacket seemed like a threatening shadow to Edi. He had to hurry. So he emptied desperately the content of the envelope and fell on his knees. He looked around and saw the roundabout at the university swarming with people, vehicles lights mixed with the traffic lights. He wondered why traffic lights were made out of that mantle range of colors.... How could vehicles and pedestrians cope with so many colors...? He swallowed the powder and immediately liver, heart and brain were hit by a huge tsunami that swept everything in its path after which, everything was quiet. Inside of him. Besides him.

It was the peace after climax. The previous cataleptic state peeled off like the skin of a snake in the warm light of spring. Martin seemed as a rotten fruit on a branch, looking histrionic towards Edi. But Edi did not care about him now. Neither of his books. He was again Edi Damician, venal human prototype who repeatedly for a fistful of money sold his soul and consequently sought redemption crucifying his spirit to the cold pole of perdition.

Edi fell face down with his hands looking crucified, like asking forgiveness in front of a merciless deity, reaching with his outstretched arms the old covers of some of the books on the pavement.

He felt Martin struggling to bring him face up. Patches of sky looked eerie among the secular trees on the University sidewalk, leaden eyes watching him through grotesque shapes clouds seemed to have taken, haunting his retina like some mythical creatures.

One by one, shadows sliding over his body gave him the feeling that he had become a human specimen analyzed by every passerby who bent down to see what happened to him. Their dialogue with Martin, however, was impossible to perceive.

The sidewalk suddenly became a wedge, a secret fold in which he was trying to hide from the world around him. Nobody could understand the true meaning of his gesture. Brown powder with which he inseminated his cells with a state of grace only his conscience accepted.
Edi soon slipped beyond the stars.

Two strong arms lifted him up. Two creatures with blue skin supported him straight up. They seemed nothing of what we mean by alien beings. Their features were fine, like calligraphy on purple cheeks. Their eyes sparkled through amethyst irises. Their clothing was white, made of a fine linen.

Edi looked around. Tiny houses were everywhere all with tinted windows and seemingly built from the same block. They all formed the pattern of the letter "A".

Strangely above each little house, in a fantastic symbiosis, both sun and moon cast their light. In front of each house, there were small gardens.

Even more incomprehensible, while some trees were full of flowers, others wore snow on branches. In other gardens colorful umbrellas were hiding a relaxing hammock. So, four seasons at once!

Edi looked at the man supporting his right arm. He had on his chest a watermark with the embedded letter: S. and the other man had the same letter. Ed dared to ask, timidly:
“If you do not mind where I am? “

“In the kingdom of words ...”

“Kingdom ... words ...? Well, how is it that the sun and moon share the same sky day and night? And the snow creaking under the steps of winter on a spring flowers carpet?”

“Because in the kingdom of ubiquitous words, it’s all possible. Because a word can take you on the wings of phonemes wherever you want to be. Whatever the season, space and time! “

“But do not understand what am I doing here? In the kingdom of words? And especially, who are you? “

“We are the "rescuers". Those who take over guilty souls to bring them before a judge. You are a prisoner of words ... “

Edi looked around bewildered to see they're not kidding. He was dragged before an imposing building, a stark contrast with the boxes next to it like ordained red and black balls from an abacus. He saw written on the frontispiece of the building in a splendid calligraphy, as he had never seen before:

"Court for traded books."

Shortly, he found himself surrounded by other individuals. The same blue color imprinted on their faces. But they were dressed differently. Among them were peasants, intellectuals , Roman soldiers, small business owners, officials carrying leather briefcases and Edi realized quickly that this kingdom, lived in a perfect literary era cohabiting first printing, along with audio-video era.

It was hard to believe that a bag of heroin ejected this strange kingdom of which he began to be fear. He looked more carefully at those who surrounded him in silence, like in a night vigil, approaching him as if they walked behind a mortuary car.

Edi began to tremble as if under the impact of a blizzard that surrounded him from head to toe.

He was pushed into a marble hall where he heard his steps. Tic-tac like an existential metronome.

His lips were burned like after a terrible thirst and his body felt as a bumblebee stuck in an glass. They arrived in front of a pulpit located about two feet higher than him. Behind he felt the air tremble, set in motion by the many letters entering the courtroom to witness the process.
To be continued