The Spider Web

www. Everybody knows what it is. World Wide Web.

I remember i once read an quasi autobiographical book called just like that. The Spider Web (1938). Or maybe, On the Spider Thread of Memory (1977). One of the two. Written by the a Romanian author, Cella Serghi.

One of these days i thought. What if conscience does not reside inside our body but is the Universe itself by which our brain is linked through literal threads. Infinitesimally small but physical whirls like threads of AEther used to entangle particles, making up for our memories. Maybe created by the lightening of engrams. Shooting out of our brain, entangling with many others.

Interestingly, the name of the character of the first book was Diana, reminding of Dianetics. Also the name of the author, L.Ron Hubbard is almost an of... 

Scientology also believes brain is not where our soul resides, but just an interface. To the individual Thetans.

The ancient Egyptians were discarding the brain during mumification. They said it was a useless organ (in the afterlife anyways). A burden to carry all our life? I remember the title of a poem written by Romanian poet Adrian Păunescu. The Unrepeatable Burden. Cause what is brain? Something that takes lots of precious resources of our body, for sure.

I was 5 or 6 years old. I went with my grandmother, Livia and my grandfather, Valerian Mitre (from Storojineț, today Ukraine) in Suceava, county residence, to visit with his sister, Miți. Tante (aunt) Miți was her name. Besides Romanian he spoke German (and he always said, Ukrainian and Russian). He spoke German with my grandfather when they wanted us not to understand (witch was drawing me crazy) but never wanted to teach us.

Believe it or not, this picture was taken by my sister Angela (coincidence of name) who was 3 or 4.

Grandfather was not biological, he married my grandmother when my mother was a few years old. He was a many years war veteran, was a driver carrying other soldiers and a piece of artillery. I remember he also said also something a mare he was riding. 6 years of war. I once asked him, when i was about 8, why people do go to war. He said "they were too many people". 

That night tante Miți drove me really mad. She said i was fat and my tits were big and kept giving me bras to try. Finally could go to sleep. I heard a very loud noise. In the morning i saw half ot the tree (walnut maybe) in the courtyard was down. It was hit by lightening.

Was it that evening or the next when we went to visit other relatives or theirs. They were in a front yard some sort of flowers (queen of night they called them) that were making a smell so strong it was choking me.

I remember i was playing in a barrel with collected rain water (they did that a lot back then because the rain water had very few minerals and needed not carrying from a fountain) with a little boat that had an electrical motor in it.

They gave it to me to take home în Câmpulung (Suceava). I played a lot with it but in the end i took it apart (like i always did with everything) and my father build with that motor a little metal propeller thrower. I remember later i made a drawing with a man on a backpack with a motor in the back and a propeller above him.

working on, best case scenario, would be for days.