prologue
 
malus was the moment when we stopped our way down the ladder for the first time for realizing the mirrored surfaces below, the grandeur of a hollowed veracity and the echoing falsities hidden under sticky clouds so far…
malus was the wrong word in our mouths, the huge, black stone, blocking our throats from swallowing the poison of a rushing moment, the toxic essence of a creed that brushed our eyes…
malus was the page we tore apart when the anvil hit the ground, the cloth of skin inscribed with the names of lovers and deities, with histories and heresies…with all the atricities we failed to forget...memories of days bygone…
malus was the bundle of bones we danced around on open fields. Disengaged from leaden verities and the burden of doubts. Snow-white smoke and the cathartic fires of a past contrived…

malus was the desert we wandered through with our hearts full of hope and our faces turned away from heaven. And we ate the dark and we drank the ignorance, welling from a shiny moment, when we stopped our way down the ladder for the very first time…