Archeology Medium Driven Poet
A poet was awakened in the middle of the night. He stands up, dresses quietly, takes some money from his wife’s purse (it’s very little money) and walks out onto the full moonlit path that takes him to the train station. He asks where the trains are going at this time of the night, and how far can he get on his meager money. The stationmaster directs him eastward, and soon a train arrives at the platform.
The poet enters the train and travels until he feels that he is in the right place. And that’s where he has to get out. But once on the ground, he walks a long way around through the villages full of angry dogs, and half-asleep peasants. Finally, he arrives to a lake and observes a little island in the middle of the lake, with a small house in the middle of the island in the middle of the lake.
Such a house would be perfect for a secret meeting with a secret lover. Meanwhile, at the shoreline, he digs with his bare hands and a found wooden stick for hours. Finally, some weird clay objects are revealed, and a big phallus pops out from his excavation.
The mediumistic archeologist is enchanted with his find and strokes the phallic object. He strokes it gently, almost like stroking his own sex. Low and behold, a young girl comes into view exactly opposite to the excavation site. Probably she is the fisherman’s or the lighthouse keeper’s daughter. Girl gets undressed under the moon’s light and swims out into the lake until the poet cries out in excitement and starts singing.
She comes out of the lake and disappears into the distance. The poet places the phallus in a little bag and falls asleep next to a tree. He sleeps all day and wakes up in the darkness. He pulls out the ceramic phallus from the bag and again strokes it gently like an ancient tool of a medicine man, like a magic object of a shaman. This black magic object from another era heats up and the girl appears again fully dressed, lies down and undresses herself.
She calls, and waves to the poet to approach. She makes love to him, holding her legs in a fetal position. They spend the night by the lake. After she leaves, the poet archeologist hides the phallus in the little leather bag. But at this time, he observes that it changed its color. Before, it was black, and now it is red.
He sits down to look at the lake for the last time, and under the leaves, discovers yet another ceramic figure of a woman. Small and dirty, made out of clay, she has enormous hips. The poet sleeps in a dug out hole, this time until high noon, finds more small clay figurines, then leaves quietly toward the train station.
But the station is not there anymore, only tracks. The trains haven’t stopped there for a while an abandoned sign that reads “Gellupka.”
Suddenly, the tracks come alive and the train arrives with cars that are empty. The poet enters the train and rides back to the city, where he finds his wife blind, surrounded by cats and birds. A tree had grown in the middle of their living room, and a small lake had become visible right outside of his back window. But he was finally home. From time to time, he takes the phallus out of his bag, and strokes it again. A young girl appears, walking on the water of the lake, smiling, and waving to him.