Aphrodite... Adonis....Myrrha and Pygmalion ....
"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, lower the book slightly and look to my grandmother, who has already quietly entered the world of dreams.
My sign to go.
For a moment it seemed to me as if she had mumbled something.
Hmm. I left the room.
"She's asleep," I tell the night nurse, who is already looking at me questioningly.
I stop and turn back to the hospital to look up at her dimly lit room window.
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 the thing that bothers me is her insistence that we are the descendants of Pygmalion.
An ancient figure whose existence has never been proven.
Never proven!
But my Grandmother still believe it.
How can she?
The lover of Aphrodite, the goddess of love!
Maybe she's in denial and this is her coping mechanism. But for me it's really irritating how she clings on to this myth.
What an absurd fiction....
Damn it!
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, of course.
"Hey," I yell at the driver.
But the driver's headlights blind me so badly that I can barely keep my eyes open.
Suddenly I hear the driver playing with the accelerator.
Won't?!
"What's that?" I growl, but my voice is drowned out by the deafening noise of the engine.
The car is now speeding recklessly past me.
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 was still a chance I might see this driver again.
The strange emblem on the car will eventually give the driver away, willy-nilly.
I sigh loudly.
"Well, Athena?"
She purrs and snuggles up against me.
"I'll have something for you in a minute, I promise," I wink at her.
"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 him 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.
Especially when I think about my final exams.
What if I fail and have to repeat? I'm sure my friends will be disappointed as we won't be able to apply to university as planned. What if I lose all my confidence afterwards and don't manage to pass?
My mum will be disappointed. She'll make a fuss!
Compare me to my brothers!
It's all so frustrating.
With all these thoughts, I cling to my pillow.
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!
But...
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.
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