Yan-Olaf, the eternal student (of Krim)

Of Krim there is always more to know, the knowledge goes ever deeper. In eternity!

As a young man Yan-Olaf Montanius had a dream, a dream of unlimited knowledge and wisdom. When he came of age, he took to studies at universities. His ambitions were great, but he soon felt at loss. Un-logik came over him, and he failed all three courses his first semester.

He tried again once, twice and thrice. But never would he produce proper results. His ambitions of knowledge and wisdom dwindled, and he left the university. In the next years he took what employment he could find. He worked as a shepherd in the mountains and as a shopkeeper’s assistant. Then, at one point joined a struggling group of travelling musicians.

Yan-Olaf soon became a figure of leadership for the group and was soon known as Yan Olaf the Wise. The group played in streets and town squares to the enjoyment of many.  The gang toured Europa and the Empire of Osman for many years.

While on the Osman island of Crete, Yan Olaf met a Semitic man in rags. And they conversed … A Darchness fell over Yan, it was warm and heavy.

I met the Arab. He had no grammar, no order, no sistem.

In the chaotic appearance of the ragged Arab, Yan Olaf saw also himself. He felt regret & remorese so strongly. Why had he strayed from the path of Knowledge? His ambitions returned, and he began his studies anew. And as far as one knows, Yan-Olaf is still a student, in eternity!

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The Paoloan Divan

That most curious piece of furniture! Such fine craftsmanship, and what curves!

Lay down here, young seeker
With so much yet to learn
Soon you will grow meeker
A new position earn

Yes, you find yourself in that House most highly acclaimed. Indeed, you stand in its innermost chamber! Lay down there, young seeker, upon that soft bosom standing splendid on four oaken feet.

Ayem, ohm, oh!
To be continuous!
To exist eternally!
To know the sixteen shades of
Phong, olde Master!

Vienna is a ghost, and you are Her murderer. How could you betray Her? And worse: How could you betray Him? You slumbered in his magnificent tower, upon that magnificent divan, as your days of youth expired in wild spiral motions, in Icarian fly-over.

Weep, Walle, cry
You know the Truth must die

Mourn, Walle, wailing
“Aye, ayem, oh, ohm …”

You live in memory. You breathe through time. You are still, as you are no more, and no more will be than you were (and you’re gone). But yes, you live! In that innermost chamber of the Holy House Helwegia, your imprint is deep and strong in the soft pillows and sweet textiles of the Paoloan Divan.