LUNATORIUM

Postnormal subsouls were evacuated into this village in late 1900´s to consume all opiates left by wild Fetisists after 1995 uprising. So now these landscapes are quite sleepy, somniac and sandy. The winds are howling outside the walls of Kasbah. You can even hear the celestial horses flying above the walls - sounding like Moorish orchestra.

Hiding place for the last drop-outs, runaways, deserters, schiz and vagabounders. Every full moon the open air fiesta for the lunatics gathering from all over. Many of Lunatorians practice the reincarnation meditation. Staring in a mirror without blinking and without taking any notice of the tears streaming down the cheeks. After half an hour your past lives begin to materialize in the mirror, in a series of images, like in the real life comics. "Your face just melts away."

Frames of the past life. Dead toys. The aunts gone by. The cuccoo clock at the wall. Much more real than any film or a book.
Here I met Isabelle, who had been a Witch in her former life. "I can recall flying memories and them become so strongly déjàvued that I am really flying, man!" Actually, she used an old receipt for that: one part Mandragora, 1/2 part opium and one part fat of pork. So she was bullshitting me with her ointment. Anyway Isabelle was reminding me of late Eberhardt, and being also a great mambo dancer she was cool.