The Wing

It’s a foggy day in Rome , with its filthy streets , where it’s quite lonesome in the morning though I prefer that way. The streets filled with the youth of this country being dipped into sinful promiscuity makes me feel ashamed to even be associated with this demographic of so-called children of God. My Lord is purer than me having forgiveness for these morally skewed individuals. I have to work with the most morally decayed director ,Nicola Barboni . The director is a wretched  disgusting individual. Making films based around the most sinful, the most egregious of topics . He is the most wicked so-called artist of all of Italy.

Mister Barboni, his name alone makes me nauseous, is a so-called artist loved by the neo realists of this nation. Directing the most sadistic of films which includes pornography, snuff, and the mocking of victims of war. He makes Pasolini and Deadato look like saints. Barboni directed a film about a cannibalistic cult in Japan. This so-called man directed an entire film based on pornographic paintings on vases. Art is a thinly veiled excuse to justify one’s perversions. The church has commissioned him to direct a film about the book of Genesis and the creation of Adam and Eve. One might accuse the church to be cynical ,yet sacrifices must be made when Italian customs are decaying.

I do the sign of the cross while walking down the hall of the cathedral. Then Mister Barboni appears.
“Good morning”
“Hello, Father”
“ You can find the film stock in the storage room Mister Barboni”
“Oh, Thank you Father”
I glare at him with high suspicion.
“Father I’ve noticed you are unhappy with the church’s decision to allow me to construct a film funded by said communion “
“ If this is an attempt to appeal to some kind of rebellious cynicism, you have failed. I will proceed with my customs even if you sir lack any”
“ Well Sir, to not come across disrespectful, I do have customs. Customs in the art of film and projecting ideas and the incomprehensible in a comprehensible format. Life is incomprehensible, because one has not live through it yet”
“ Oh really “ he lights up a cigarette, yet I hold in my furious anger.
“ In the book of Jonah it describes the awful crimes of the people of Nineveh , beheading and long painful , cruel , disgusting deaths being depicted. As a director I only record the cruelties of these individuals”
“ Your Machiavellian atheism doesn’t impress Mister Barboni, now stop” I state with burning rage.
Mister Barboni slowly strips. I remain quiet ,yet I am morbidly intrigued I have to admit. Until I see a strange body part come from his back. It was shedding white feathers and it opened with a strong sound of wind being made. I couldn’t believe it. It was the angel's wing. A singular large white wing. Then Mister Barboni leaned towards me with a soft ,yet heavy voice.

“Father, Father Lucifer has commissioned me. To depict the evil sinful acts of humanity for the fallen Archangel. What is more beautiful ,but to show  the contrast of the purity of heaven with the ugliness of God’s greatest creation.”
“You are ….  The descendant of…..” I nearly faint and then I catch myself.
I don’t define this act as nothing more than blind lust ,but I can’t continue this denialism. I give up my body and I lock lips with Nicola and I shed a jovial tear.