Miss Peri Lyons' observations on:love,culture, ghosts, love, celebrity, psychic ability and how to get it, fashion, boys, girls,cats, artists, love, and anything else that wanders by.
What is an Ampelopsis? To quote Lord Peter Wimsey: "An ampelopsis is a suburban plant that climbs by suction."
(Speaking of which, everything here is copywright-ed 2012 immediately.)
Last Letter From Stalingrad, February 5 1943 by Peri Lyons, c 2016 all rights reserved
(Author's note: In 1976, a mailbag came to light in the archives of the US Army. It was filled with letters. These letters were written by German soldiers. In 1943, the German army abandoned the soldiers it had left in Stalingrad, leaving them to die of exposure and starvation.. These letters were written by the men, when they knew no one was coming back for them. The ltters were never mailed. I found these letters in a book, and, although of Austrian Jewish descent, I was moved by the words of men I grew up thinking of as enemies. .This is a reimagining of one of those letters.Who this man was, and why was he was "avoided by men", I will never know.-PL)) *************************************** Last Letter From Stalingrad
Dear Monica There are four of us here For the first time I have friends other than my friends, the stars. (I couldn't look up from my telescope, Monica. Not then. You know why. I was avoided by men. So I looked at the sky.)
This letter will take two weeks to reach you It will all be over by then Do not believe what you read in the papers of what they say has happened here: What are the judgments of others, to you and me? Monica, the time is too serious now to joke: You were always my best friend.
I have always thought in lightyears But I felt in seconds. On this beautiful night Andromeda and Pegasus are right above my head I have looked at them for a long time I shall be very close to them soon My peace I owe to the stars, Monica Of which you are the most beautiful to me.
Around me everything is collapsing An army is dying Day and night are on fire And four men busy themselves with their job We measure temperatures And report on cloud ceilings Here too. I have much to do with the weather.
No one, no one will come for us, Monica There is no one to come The clouds are rather low this evening They make a pattern I have not seen before
I want you to know my secret, Monica No human being has ever died by my hand I have never loaded my pistol With live ammunition. I should like to have counted stars For another few decades But I suppose nothing will come of that now.
I have always thought in lightyears But I felt in seconds On this beautiful night Andromeda and Pegasus are right above my head I have looked at them for a long time I shall be very close to them soon My peace I owe to the stars, Monica Of which you are the most beautiful to me.