“From an unwillingness to chastise flawlessness to appease curiosity came clarity, and that empathy allowed Major Faust to decipher another riddle – a polarized message that was etched into the mosaic of dry clay. In accordance to the nature of the canvas, the riddle modeled hard truths. Only through unbiased acuity could the timeline of portraits, and the riddle hidden therein, enlighten misguided ideals. From left to right, Major Faust opened his mind. From the first picture frame, he acknowledged that the glorious mutation from things ordinary to surreal was cultivated by the artistic edification of a Jew. But not solely by a Jew, insisted overlapping impressions, he was accompanied by the hand of (a) god, which – continued clumping clay – makes this a holy place, and should, therefore, be preserved. To label the mysticism of the Clematis Ballroom as taboo purely because the Star of David had once blessed the home was a level of ignorance the timeline of portraits would not allow Major Faust to propagate any further. Blinking. Unmoving. Yet traveling, still. Not physically, but philosophically. Major Faust was squeezing his way out of the alleyway of narrow-mindedness and propaganda imposed by the Third Reich. The walls were tightening – philosophically; a headache was constricting – physically. The only therapy for his mental and corporeal discomfort was the alfresco of sanity lingering at the end of that narrowing corridor, so he jostled on to the next portrait of clay. Traveling deeper into inception, Major Faust began to rationalize like an artist. Under that constitution he discovered that creativity was god’s benediction to mankind; that art was a union of free-will and reverence that was offered to man, and denied to angels; that that union functioned as an avenue to heaven, and an escape from reality. It was stated that paradise was lost when Eve took to temptation, but did she devour the entire apple after swallowing the first bite? Major Faust of the Waffen SS – correction – Major Faust, the Clematis Ballroom’s apprentice, considered the effects of regurgitation: whether paradise lost could be rediscovered by forsaking the discrimination facilitated by knowledge. In that portrait, Major Faust solved the riddle of faith. Blinking. Unmoving. Yet, traveling still. Not physically, but philosophically and dimensionally; Major Faust awakened – philosophically – and observed – dimensionally – that he was standing naked in the Garden of Eden. The debilitation of his Waffen SS uniform had been unbuttoned by artistic consciousness, and the stitching had been unraveled by faith. Divested, the fuliginous portrait of clay – the third and final chapter upon the mantle – recited scripture: “Surely those who guard against evil shall be in gardens and fountains… For Allah has promised to the believing men and believing women gardens, beneath which rivers flow, to abide in them, and goodly dwellings in gardens of perpetual abode; and best of all is Allah’s goodly pleasure; that is the grand achievement…” And it was upon those goodly syllables that the Clematis Ballroom was revealed to be what god had promised believing men and believing women. Those dense syllables rattled the hardwood floors, beat faded fabric, and shook wood-ants from champagne curtains. A miasma of dust clouded the air. Major Faust closed his eyes and was shown Babylonian Hanging Gardens that, too, transcended natural laws. A gravity-defying stream swept him into a current that was blessed with levitation and tranquility; a current that flowed from the alleyway of narrow-mindedness; a current bound to the motions of the universe.”
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