Shadow-Play of Illusion

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The brilliant genius in charge brought the temperature
to 30 degrees Celsius - did I mention my lamasery? It
will be freezing in there so my monks can think and
enjoy being cool, in this heat we are preparing for the
symbolical fires of hell

I am wearing my swimsuit and pirate jeans, not suitable
for any lamasery, no dark robes, a migraine threatening
to become a full-blown desert storm, during lunch I softly
filed out with the monks and wandered the streets forlorn
cool air exquisite on my skin

All us monks are anonymous, never converse, only do astral
travelling together, visiting the realms described by Robert
Munroe, we telepathically communicate with more evolved
life-forms, no need for language, only sound as vibration
remains – but I am too uncomfortable

To describe my lamasery, here is a crackpot document to
translate in this physical world where I am paid to be
an unevolved, animalistic life-form in a
shadow-play of illusion…
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