MINISTER OF CREATIVITY, copywrite 2014 ————-

There are a few stories about “secret gardens,” but out here in New Mexico it is usually about secret caves or caverns. The cave is a metaphor for security, privacy and retreat. Alandrax, who I’ve written a lot about, found a cavern in the mountains above her old adobe home. It was where she went to think and reflect on life. She put up a cross to ward off evil. It was an ancient place, steps in the form of a ladder in the stone could still be partially seen. It faced south, which captured the warm winter sun light. In the summer months she would pretend she was living in the cavern and walk around naked, like the ancient ones, although she did bring with her sandwiches and a jug of water. Occasionally, she would add her own artwork to the inner walls for future explorers to find. She would look out at the canyon below and wonder what life was like a thousand years ago. Being grabbed by men for sex wasn’t sexual abuse back then, it was just daily life, although there probably were tribe rules within the clans. Alandrax slowly allowed me into her private life over a few years as she heard my stories and felt a common history. We were not compatible sexually though, she wanted to re-enact rape scenarios and I was more about emotional/sexual abuse through art, a strange type of abuse; so basically we just listened to each other’s stories while looking out at the view.


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