“I walk by the majestic cathedral built of rough stone and my soul cannot give up. Where is the salvation? Where is the time to retreat, to destroy that moment of admitted madness, feelings of numbness? Where to desperately seek for a love equal to infinity, or simply sharing the calm sunshine, the warmth of the fire, the blessing of the bread and water? From distance, the water of the Saint Lagoon is a deep cobalt blue, and it calls me, and tempts me … Come!
Then I allow myself to slide to the bottom of it, to that ancestral deepness where the night viscously prowls me, where dragons and serpents haunt me, where there are mistletoe and a deep pain that prevents me from breathing. There are so many moans. So much regret. And bones that disintegrate, and fibers that dissolve, and dull days, dull as the words that accumulate and decompose. I walk, little by little, on its muddy bottom: Persephone descending into hell to be reborn, but only death surrounds me and touches me with its icy fingers of algae. I cross nebulous spaces, where the spirals of time no longer leave their impression. Faces only, just faces intertwine in front of me. Faces which already are only memories. An irregular memory guarding within itself an accumulated time, not lived to its fullest, not exhausted, and before, aborted. A space for escape opens over my eyes: a chink of sky behind the clouds, and the sound of the bells. I let it lead me. The sound grows, grows and involves me; I walk back down the dirt street and I see two children holding hands. I approach them, and before they ask for bread, I kneel, and I involve them with my love, and only then I can absolve myself.”(Excerpt from the book of Ludmila Submerged Time)