THE SILENT SUPPER & THE INVISIBLE GUESTS
When the veils between worlds are thinner, when the cold winds of autumn blow away the colored leaves, in the day of the Witches, doors are opened, things and beings can be seen, noticed, understood. For the deads, for the beloved ones departed to the world of the mosts, remembering them with a stone on a chair, in front of a banquet. In a silent supper.
Please dear ones, please beloved ones visit me yearly every year in this day. For many many years. Come to my home. Do not invite me to your cold home and if you should let it be dreaming, smoothly without struggle and pain, horror or illnesses. Meet me with an embrace caring my life in the best way, with ghostly hands and whispers, guiding me in the path of uncertainty and future, like a lamb among wolves in evergreen pastures.
I wished and dreamed about you visiting me.
It means life, it means wisdom, it means your legacy. It is my respect, my love, my honor, my recognition, my duty, my pleasure.
I invited my Deads to a silent supper.
They invited me to partake to a living sparkle of immortality. Vitriol!