Topic started by John Rhys-Burgess (@ 212.219.92.18) on Sun Dec 8 05:30:16 .
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The young souls in Purgatory were irreverent and naughty, rather than positively devilish. An attractive young woman came up to me in the middle of the street. She enclosed her arms around my neck and lovingly pressed her opened mouth to mine. Her soft tongue fluttered like a wild and sensuous pink butterfly against my own. Between her quickening breaths, she whispered her delight.
Another girl-soul, sweet and twenty, stood quietly by, silent and forlorn. Her soul-mate had flown away that day to some other place. His name was Damascus. They had been together for five thousand years.
The highway in Purgatory was long and straight. It stretched over the gently undulating hills towards Infinity. I recognised the handiwork of Claud de Lorrain in the décor at once. When Claud had passed through Purgatory, he had evidently dabbled in Minimalism.
A bossy female voice was calling all the young souls forward. The heavier traffic backed up along the road as far as the eye could see, sat in the gentle sun and patiently waited its turn to move. The road to Infinity lay clear ahead.
The young souls flew upwards and onwards, leaping for joy, propelled along by the energy of their own exuberance and mirthful frivolity, towards the green and blue of the distant horizon. Their frolics gave new significance to the expression "high spirited" at the thought of which I might have smiled had I not wept in my sadness to see them go. I stood back in the shadow of my own soul and watched them fly away from me. It was probably the sound of my sobbing that woke me up.
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