The history of religion is a history of trying to return to the beginning. Atman wants to fusion back again into Brahman. The descendants of Adam want to return to Eden. The descendants of Ishmael want to restore the monotheism of Abraham. Communists want to return to the primitive society before social classes split. Fascists want to revive the Golden ages of their nations. Feminists want to restore the Goddess to center stage. Environmentalists want to return to the untouched Nature of the pre-human era. And psychologists want to live forever in the anal stage.



I remember the girl I used to dream about. I sought that girl out all throughout middle school with my peers. Still throughout high school, still among the middle schoolers.


She is 12 or thereabouts. She is cute, but imperfect. She has a toothy smile, sweet eyes, a shy voice but a social personality, beautiful ears and thin hands with long fingers. Freckles would be a plus but are not required. So are short hair and rozy cheeks. Any eye or skin color will do if she is the right one, but she must also like that color and know to exploit it as it is to emphasize her beauty. She is very hairless or at most peachy; skinny, but her butt is more globular than that of most asteroids; late developer but has puffies to small bewbs; short, and actually very short because I am short myself; her thin arms and legs though have just a hint of sporty, enough for her to burst running, but subtle enough you have to know what you're looking for. She is not demanding in dressing, and knows too to decide to be comfortable rather than externally attractive, but she still prefers to be feminine and will show her arms or midriff, and wear skirts or tight bottoms which will remark her legs.

She is not rambunctious and rowdy, but she is impossible to herd. She talks back. She has a potty mouth. She likes to be herself. She likes to be herself and gets in trouble. She likes to live dangerously but knows where all the lines are. She doesn't like rules she cannot reform. She doesn't like the law anymore than any other rules she cannot reform. If she was 35, no lawyer would be able to keep her out of jail. She doesn't like rules she cannot reform. Maybe also the rules against her body. Although she'd never be promiscuous inasmuch as promiscuity became a loss of control over her action. She is not irresponsible or careless. She is just free; free under the sun and rain by day, free under the moon and stars by night. Free under God and under no man at all.

She is bad. She is naughty. She is her parents' headache. She is her in-laws' nightmare. She is the bad girl your mom and your pastor warned you about.

She is dangerous. She is a truckload of uranium. With that, she can illuminate France or poison the Ukraine. She can save the planet from peak oil, or radiate it barren with her gamma rays.

She is indomitable and untamed. She is rogue. She is renegade. She is outlaw. A pirate, a hajduka.



I dreamed of her since I was 11.

I find myself forced to admit that I wasn't ready for her at 11, or 15, or even 19. When I gave up finding her. Am I now?

But there she is now.

I am back to the beginning. My beginning.

She, the girl I dreamed of, exists.

I am dizzy like in middle school. But this time in reality.

She is either going to be my Theodora or my Cleopatra.

Either way she already killed me. It is predestined.



She is indomitable and untamed. She is rogue. She is renegade. She is outlaw. A pirate, a hajduka.

I became her while I was waiting for her.

Now we are together, and from the two uranium rods sparks are going to fly...







I would honestly be surprized if we are not married from here in ten years.

Knowing her, knowing me, it will probably be under a Gadsden flag.









"Amagi" also literally means "to return to the mother" in the same sense that a man, even a slave, is begotten free and their freedom has to be taken away; rather than the reverse.