Yaratılış 1:2.Edebiyat
Terra autem erat ınanıs… et vacua… et tenebrae erant… super facıem abyssı… et spırutus del… ferebatur super aquas… fakat yeryüzü ıssızdı…ve bomboştu… ve karanlıklar vardı… boşluğun tepesinde … ve Tanrı’nın ruhu… süzülüyordu suların üzerinde.
When Europeans eventually made their way to east Africa, they were astonished at what they found. A Portuguese travel log from the sixteenth century puts it vividly: “No country in the world is so full of churches, monasteries, and ecclesiastics as Abyssinia [Ethiopia]; it is not possible to sing in one church without being heard by another, and perhaps by several.”
To the question ‘What am I?’, Stirner replies: ‘An abyss of lawless and unregulated impulses, desires, wishes, passions, chaos without light or guiding star’.
See them clamber, these nimble apes! They clamber over one another and so scuffle into the mud and the abyss. They all strive towards the throne: it is madness they have — as if happiness sat upon the throne! Often filth sits upon the throne — and often the throne upon filth, too.
A dream
Prince Rowan Whitethorn Galathynius, consort, husband, and mate of
the Queen of Terrasen, knew he was dreaming.
He knew it, because he could see her.
There was only darkness here. And wind. And a great, yawning
chasm between them.
No bottom existed in that abyss, that crack in the world. But he could
hear whispers snaking through it, down far below.
She stood with her back to him, hair blowing in a sheet of gold.
Longer than he’d seen it the last time.
He tried to shift, to fly over the chasm. His body’s innate magic
ignored him. Locked in his Fae body, the jump too far, he could only
stare toward her, breathe in her scent—jasmine, lemon verbena, and
crackling embers—as it floated to him on the wind. This wind told him
no secrets, had no song to sing.
It was a wind of death, of cold, of nothing.
Aelin.
He had no voice here, but he spoke her name. Threw it across the gulf
between them.
Slowly, she turned to him.
It was her face—or it would be in a few years. When she Settled.
But it wasn’t the slightly older features that knocked the breath from
him.
It was the hand on her rounded belly.
She stared toward him, hair still flowing. Behind her, four small
figures emerged.
Rowan fell to his knees.
The tallest: a girl with golden hair and pine-green eyes, solemn-faced
and as proud as her mother. The boy beside her, nearly her height, smiled
at him, warm and bright, his Ashryver eyes near-glowing beneath his cap
of silver hair. The boy next to him, silver-haired and green-eyed, might
Sadede gelirsem, diyeceğim o ki cancağızım, salt bir süzme faşist kırılmasın içinmiş bunca sahtelik, bunca nezaket gösterisi! Yavaş yavaş da olsa, gık demeyi öğrenememektenmiş bunca çile. Latinler ne doğru demişler: Abyssus abyssum invoc (uçurum uçurumu çağırır). Senin bitmek bilmeyen uçurumlarından sağ çıkmak herkesin harcı değil.
