See: https://www.wattpad.com/1429690585-the-deserts-of-europe-choleric-grandpa
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The Healer
"Forbid the consultation of the oracle and fight superstitious doubts." Sunzi
Grandpa was an exceptional figure - healer, seer, soul berserker. So much for the blessing. The genius was ideally combined with a genius loci. His magic box stands well on safe ground in the healing garden. A meadow full of opium poppy, flea and cat's weed, celery, agrimony, yarrow, radish and iris still fulfills the requirements of a living pharmacy of the Middle Ages to this day. The medicinal garden was created by Irish monks who preached Christian water and drank magical wine. The colonization came from wild roots. No farmer's hand had ever moved there and no cult had found its place until the first ditch was dug in the 13th century and a garden was laid out on the Oede - Oede in the sense of Od as in Kleinod/Gem.
Gorod (town) and garden have the same root word. The enclosed space defines both. Reasons for the neglect of an area in the immediate vicinity of the Fulda and the Kraichhain processing site are not apparent.
Grandpa simmered close to the affects. He needed violence and destruction to feel alive and maintain his form. The choleric man chased two sons out of the house and off the factory yard. Both were more talented than the obedient brother. Their removal from the magic box followed a dictate of imperiousness. Grandpa did not want any equal offspring. No one was to step out of his shadow and take the helm.
"I must be toppled from the throne," he said.
He was the man at the lonely top. Anyone who didn't like that could go out into the world. Grandpa made no distinction between a critical objection and open rebellion.
Those who allowed themselves to be broken were broken. The broken son, my father, saved himself on a shore of needlessness.
I didn't understand why my siblings didn't work. They had the right to step out of line. They had access to the maternal departments. I was added to the company's construction kit like an object. Two questions came to mind. What made me different from my supposedly melancholy and highly gifted siblings and why didn't my father resist his father?
My condition was confusion. The brutal and mild materialism of my grandfather and father, which in any case was not weakened by any objections, were too contradictory to the spirituality of both men. Father wrote little prayers and enjoyed a small reputation in the secretive circles of like-minded people. They were entrenched separatists. One was a member of a meditation group and completed a circle in which regressions took place and people rolled on the floor screaming because they thought they were in the embryonic stage.
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