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a future of dreams is a short novel that grapples with love & true love, human beauty, sensuality, fantasy, and the surreal. | Release Date: March 1, 2018

Excerpts:

Chapter 8 | The Schuster Center

“As was his custom, Áxel had arrived early. He couldn’t remember the last time he arrived anywhere late.”

“He understood the value of time, time as a scarce resource: a resource that dissipates like vapor and doesn’t replenish.”

“Áxel waited anxiously for the performance to begin. He inspected the chamber’s acoustic ceiling and walls. He marveled at the beauty of the architecture. ‘Architecture is art,’ he thought, satisfied with his realization, ‘The word art is embedded in architecture.’

“That musical evening was for the architectural design of sounds. He came to see an edifice built with sounds.”

“He sat alone. Both seats beside him were empty. He was not surprised. As time passed in Dayton, it seemed that solitude was an unavoidable state of being. Áxel was usually surrounded by people, but he always found himself alone.”

“At a slight distance, violins, cellos and other string instruments were tuned. The unsynchronized waves of sound dispersed throughout the chamber as if to drown out competing conversations. The evening was for sounds from things, not people.”

“Like art, music paints a masterpiece on the canvas of our minds with colors made from musical notes, notes brushed on with rhythmic strokes. As the musicians readied their instruments, they blotted the multitude of inattentive canvases without rhyme or reason.”

“Men in black suits –hair slicked back with airs of refinement– hovered throughout the space. Áxel understood these men. He wasn’t one of them, but he knew how to maneuver and survive in their world.”

“The women were drenched by nocturnal elegance, some wearing dresses simply painted on their bodies. The attire conformed to their curves and angles, while fabrics highlighted the accidents of sensual bone structures.”

“He saw her. He thought he saw her. He searched desperately through the crowd –like a man seeks air when held under water.”

“The dress she wore framed her as if it was an extension of her skin. The specter’s hair was swept back into a loose knot. A thick pendulum vividly cascaded from its center. For a moment, Áxel believed that time was measured by that delightful pendulum. The very essence of time must have existed in those thick, beautiful strands of hair. He wanted to seize this heavenly pendulum, but only to measure time. It was as perfectly dark as a starless winter’s night, an unequivocal jet-black. At the nape, it fell into sharp contrast against the pale of her skin. A choker clutched her neck with a slight tightening of the flesh.”

“Conductor Paul Casals tapped his lectern –tick, tick, tick. What was missing was the ‘tock.'”

“Paul Casals’ attentive orchestra was ready; and with an undulating wave of the hand, music erupted effortlessly and tenderly. On the first of the score’s assembled pages was the title, Somewhere in Time.”

“The piano wept and the violins joined its sorrow. They cried because of the uncertainty of time, its cruel passing, and devouring threats. They cried for humans, they cried for Áxel –the victims of time. It wasn’t long before the cello poured bass, torrential tears over audible realms, tears that ran long and deep, leaving streaks of pain in rhythmic wounds. They pulverized Áxel’s eardrums with the explosive percussions of a million mortars against the landscape of his heart.”

“For Áxel, music and art were among the greatest expressions of lust, and Somewhere in Time left him wounded and lustful –in lust for her…”

“The cello continued to plow its bass across Áxel’s heart. The whine of the violins was planted soon after.”

“The violins repeated their melodic and consistent whine.”

“The cellos dragged their feet as they took a few bass steps.”

“The piano tiptoed in treble.”

“The instruments danced and repeated with variations their noted steps.”

“Finally, the piano ran from treble to bass and bass to treble –each key took a step in the hastened journey toward her.”

“The instruments rose together, and then slept.”

“Áxel caught a glimpse of the woman in black with the choker orbiting her pearly neck. He captured her profile with his sensibilities and recorded her overwhelming image, one that would haunt his dreams on lonely nights. Her face was soft. Her nose sloped delicately, perfectly and elegantly –every detail on her alabaster canvas was absolutely ravishing.”

“As the cellos cried their gravest note, he recalled her words: ‘You will think of me.’”


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a future of dreams (Release: March 1, 2018)