.
...The vesanic eyes see the clouds of Nantes pass by, rapid like angels-rhinoceroses: is the man in his vesania who ordered to build that house: this house; this house!
The back patio has some immense plantpots that contain rain of yesternight and moskitos of July playing inebriated in the piss of the mastiffs: the weather is dense and heavy over the marine Armorique...inside, deep inside the house; the man of feverish imagery got his cerebrum bürning because of the enigma of Hizrael and the 141 keys to the cunts of the fairies of Palestine; burns his head burns, in reveries and mirages of the opium of the China of the orange mandarins of the Soleil.
The maidservant is boiling lungs of dolphin in the kitchen into an immense metallic pot, pressumably bronz; the smell is heavy and goes blackening slowly the window panes causing a sort of artificial eclipse, till the point that the sun can penetrate not the rococó crystals.
The chambers of the servants are hermetically closed, since all of them were fired, except two: are 7 rooms completely wrapped -floor, walls and ceiling- in cartón rosé, and where Jules Verne stores now his demented projects and machines.
Near to it is the smoking-room: a hall or cabinet, where Verne usually encloses himself to smoke with a yellow, long pipe, made of the skull of an aborigin Tupí of Amazonia.
This room has its walls all decorated with pornographic illustrations, and is replete of books; in one of the angles of the cabinet there is an embalmed head of babirusa, and nailed to the ceiling, there is a large collection of penises as decoration. The furniture of the room includes a tall shelf, full of little flasks with powerful psychotropics, a big-comfortable sofa or puff, and a paraguayan bed aka hamaca paraguaya.
Is in this cabinet where Verne created his most insane, even obscene imageries.
...The vesanic eyes walk now by the ceiling like two blue-green spiders, without lose detail of the littlest rugosity in the stucco, the smallest topographic crack in the surface, due to the subatlantic and/or telluric movements that lately chastised La Bretagne.
All the walls of the manor that aren't covered with something, like paper of rice, show slight gaps and cracks, that in some places form sorts of strange figures, even faces.
There is a long line of gaps, internal into the wall, that go from the patio, towards the garden of the front, and are notoriously precambric.
This gap it continues into the ground, and gets enlarged for kilometres, reaching till a mine of venomous metals: some liquid effluviums from the mine were filtered and ran kilometres down towards the house, and the walls are absorbing by a strong osmosis all this dangerous material.
Due to this, in some summer nights, the colour of the walls shifts strangely from green to fluorescent orange, as can be seen from a long distance.
The room where Jules Verne sleeps, at least some nights, is a perfect black square, with a white bed in the middle. The room is hermetic and acoustically isolated by a brand new material invented by himself: the telgopor or tergopol: a semi-elastic fiber.
The fiber is encrusted into the wide walls, forming a sort of aislamiento perfecto, and turning the room into a kind of Tártaro: bottomless-black abyss without the least connection with the exterior, according to the greek myths.
The living room is large, and all carpeted in a green suede carpet, that covers walls, ceiling and floor. Jules Verne in robe de chambre, is smoking now sat down on a comfortable puff: his eyes throw stares on fire to a little round table that is in an angle of the room, the table is full of maps and cartographic dementias, even about inexistent islands, but that Verne is convinced that actually exist; like the ínsula Brasiliensis or Isle of Brasil: a huge island somewhere in the middle of the southern seas, with a delicious weather, full of strange animals with metallic carcasses, and full of nymphomaniac naked women, who spend all day satisfying themselves.
The door of this room is carpeted in green suede too, and over the door, there is a head of demon, exquisitely carved in platinum; over the left, there is a table to play billiard, and on a shelf are the eyes of Seneca into a flask, submersed in a solution that Verne himself invented, and whose formula is unknown.
Every wednesday at 6 pm (hour of Paris), a hypnotist mesmerizes Verne to meke him remember past lives...but these practices are going him insane (to Verne).
...Exactly to the left of the little round table, there is a mysterious metallic pentagram; at its right.
Left...
Now, under a huge zodiac-wheel that shines at the fulgency of 66 green roman candles, Jules Verne in robe de chambre, injects his daily dose of peruvian curare, just to reach...the immortality...HA HA HA!
The man is the house now...the house is the man; the house-the man-the man-the house...HA HA HA!
HA HA HA!
*Note: According to the venerable Sir Meredith Condom-Chicley: "When Jules Verne died, he was completely vampirized: his face obtained the colour of the palest green: as it seems, his life was given to Lucifer, Lord of the abysses."
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