"Offended by the mistakes which nature has so often given to the female sense, Pygmalion has spent lonely days without company.
Now, with admired art, full of ease, he carves bright ivory and gives it form as if he had never grown up.
Some woman, and contemplates his work with heartfelt love. virgin whole appears the image; whole she lives, one believes, and, if not prevent the shyness, she tries movement. o was art enveloped by art! Pygmalion, astounded, draws rapturously on the inflamed breast of the likeness. Often, with a probing hand, he touches the work, whether it is a body, whether, which he never confesses, it is made of ivory..."
I pause and lower the book slightly.
My eyes wander to my grandmother, who has already quietly entered the realm of dreams.
My sign to go.
Carefully I put the book down.
I kiss her again on the forehead and leave her room.
"She's asleep," I tell the night nurse, who is already looking at me questioningly.
She nods and wishes me good night.
Unlike today, I'm in a bit more of a hurry to leave the hospital, not because it's already very late, but because I'm in a hurry to leave.
I turn back to the hospital and look up at her dimly lit room window.
Every night I read her the same story of Pygmalion from Ovid. Even though she knows it by heart.
She is still surprised and excited.
The only question is, when will this be the last time I read Ovid to her?
Sighing, I get on my bike.
I don't find it a torture to read it to her every night, because otherwise I'd probably regret it. But what bothers me is that she keeps saying that we come from Pygmalion.
An ancient figure whose existence has never been proven.
In fact, if you go by the supposed family tree, I should be descended from Adonis, the lover of Aphrodite. Goddess of love - Tze
What an absurd fantasy....
Squealing tyres, aggressive honking and a minor heart attack on my part.
I almost ended up in hospital again. But this time as a patient in the emergency room, mind you.
"Hey," I shouted at the driver.
But he blinded me so badly with his headlights that I could barely keep my eyes open. But no matter, I could still see his stupid face.
Suddenly I hear him playing with the accelerator.
He won't do it now!
"What's that?" I growl, but it is drowned out by the deafening noise of his engine.
The car now speeds recklessly past me.
I look at it angrily. Unfortunately the number plate is dirty and the paint is the same as every other idiot on the road.
I really will never see him again.
Angrily I get back on my bike.
Arrived at home, I put my backpack aside.
I take off my shoes and try to calm down.
All the way home I kept thinking about that inconsiderate driver. But then I remembered that there is still a chance of seeing him again.
The strange emblem on his car will eventually give him away, willy-nilly.
I can spare myself an "I'm here!" now that the rest of the family is in bed.
Except, of course... ....
She purrs and snuggles up to me.
"I'll put something out for you in a minute, I promise," I wink at her.
A cup of milk will do for today.
"Here you go," I pour the milk into her plate and stroke her a little before disappearing into my bedroom.
It's already past midnight, but I'm definitely not in the mood for sleep.
Maybe some scented candles and relaxing piano music will help.
Aaron always said it helped her get to sleep.
Not that I've ever had trouble falling asleep, but lately it's been really hard.
Circumstances, of course...
At the moment, my thoughts are dancing a tango again.
Turning in time for my final exams. But then getting more critical about my choice of course and finally worrying about my grandmother.
It is all so frustrating.
I cling to my pillow with all these thoughts.
I pause and look up at the ceiling.
Just this one thought, saying goodbye to my grandmother, hurts me the most.
It might be annoying to have to read her this one story every time.
To spend hours arguing with her about how we are not the descendants of Pygmalion!
What do I really know about this guy who, out of pure frustration, carved himself a sculpture.
Who then made it his wife?
Or Myrrha, who gave birth to Adonis through incest?
The only question is, who was the mysterious woman Adonis must have loved besides the two goddesses?
Aphrodite... Adonis....Myrrha and Pygmalion ....
All fictional characters, created for entertainment.
A truly multifaceted ancestral history, teeming with sin. My grandmother made up a really nice story.
Suddenly, out of the blue, I felt strong stabs all over my body.
It was as if many knives were being plunged into my body at the same time.
I winced in pain.
My eyes fell on the extinguished scented candles beside my bed.
It has been said for a reason that stress can eat away at your health.
"Ku-zu-no-ha," escapes my lips out of the blue.
Surprised, I look up at my grandmother's smiling face.
Wait, my grandmother?
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