Quoted By:
Moonlight is hypnosis. It strikes in imperceptible waves at one point, at the very point of consciousness that transmutes the waking state into sleep.
Some cold and dead life begins, even enthusiasm, but all this is shrouded in mists of principal illusionism; it is the pathos of bloodless and deadly hallucinations. The moon is a combination of complete rigor and death with a mobility that reaches the point of frenzy, of dancing. It is a nothingness that has become metal, an emptiness pouring out in monotonous and relentless peace, a hallucination that does not make your blood run cold, but that carries you into the blue void in some zigzags, some spirals, not up or down, but left or right, to some unknown point, inside that point, to the depth of that point.
One can feel the brain beginning to expand, as black gaps form in it, as something black and light emerge from these gaps, as if transparent, like skeletons, like star heaps, like huge spiders with glowing eyes.
Cold and stench, werewolfism and self-torture, blue and black, hypnosis and life, whirlwind and silence, all merged into one silent and ossified hallucination. It was not without reason that someone said that demons have a cold seed.
