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String Theory Sonata. Iconography: The Anatomy of My Becoming, #3
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- FormatePub
- ISBN978-1-393-69393-2
- EAN9781393693932
- Date de parution06/11/2019
- Protection num.pas de protection
- Infos supplémentairesepub
- ÉditeurRelay Publishing
Résumé
A multimedia, multiverse fantasy romantic comedy in three acts that takes place in a convergence of time and space, features a ghost, three love stories, a stripper, a homeless guy, lots of dancing and many timespace surprises. Dorothy, a String Theory physicist and professor of physics is on sabbatical, recovering from cancer and the recent death of her ex-husband, she is reading Lord George Byron's unfinished masterpiece, Don Juan.
Byron and Santa and Susy appear from other dimensions of timespace to interact with a group of modern day friends and lovers and all's well that ends well. Excerpt 1: I feel like a porcelain doll that's been thrown down the stairs. Shattered. A million pieces glued together with cosmic superglue by some very patient and persistent angels. The grace of a balanced internal ecology that can coordinate smoothly with a global parasite whose modus operandi is rape, pillage and burn with impunity.
There's a hot ecology to it. Hot and hollow. Excerpt 2: "And she bent o'er him, and he lay beneath, hush'd as the babe upon its mother's breast, droop'd as the willow when no winds can breathe, lull'd like the depth of ocean when at rest. Fair as the crowning rose of the whole wreath, soft as the callow cygnet in its nest." We are gods and when we come together, worlds are formed.
Byron and Santa and Susy appear from other dimensions of timespace to interact with a group of modern day friends and lovers and all's well that ends well. Excerpt 1: I feel like a porcelain doll that's been thrown down the stairs. Shattered. A million pieces glued together with cosmic superglue by some very patient and persistent angels. The grace of a balanced internal ecology that can coordinate smoothly with a global parasite whose modus operandi is rape, pillage and burn with impunity.
There's a hot ecology to it. Hot and hollow. Excerpt 2: "And she bent o'er him, and he lay beneath, hush'd as the babe upon its mother's breast, droop'd as the willow when no winds can breathe, lull'd like the depth of ocean when at rest. Fair as the crowning rose of the whole wreath, soft as the callow cygnet in its nest." We are gods and when we come together, worlds are formed.
