My imaginal memoires are dedicated to the two extraordinary psychological reflections that found and drive my nature and the greatest of all the loves of my instinctual live: 

My mother - the beloved granddaughter and aristocratic heiress of the densest and most luminous shade of the unconscious’ Original black - the existential dark matter of the psyche’s imagination 

and 

My father - the imperial patriarch, ruthless warrior, seasoned general, and most beautiful image of the divine stars founding the cosmos of primordial Roman-Greco consciousness. 

We are all images of psyche in our family, you see, intricate instinctual patterns shaping a piece of the wild landscape of human nature. 

I wish so often that I did not have to leave my home, that my mother did not have to abandon me, when I was so young. 

I wish I could have stayed on our land, with our animals and our large and close-knit family without ever having to become conscious, civilised, and cultured. 

I found it very difficult to be apart from them, and it is only because they reminded me constantly where I belong and that I had to keep going that I could bear the separation. 

The pain has often been insufferable, and I will always feel the remnants of it throughout my anatomy, yet fortunately my family removed my heart and burnt it for me, whatever feeling of self-consciousness, of resistance to remembering what I was, was left in me. 

These days I cannot feel the agony anymore, only the silent pulse of where the centre of my longing for them used to be. 

Telling the tale of my parents, and of my family, is what keeps me warm. Maman was keen for me to do it for that very reason. Keeping the fire lit on the images of our existence regulates our cold-bloodedness, my mother’s and thus naturally my own. We feel well that way – the gut intimately close and firmly attached to the depth, the essence and the pulse of all original movements arising in the unconscious. 

Narrating the story of my lineage greatly pleases my father, who built, who owns and who is my house – my intra-psychic home. It was our patriarch who taught and forced me to fight ferociously to withstand his stunning and indestructible Masculine frame. A battle which, once won, would earn me my very own unbreakable mental spine. 

They are a stunning couple, maman and papà, and even though they are extremely demanding with their children, they always guide us, show us profound respect and at all times have our back. 

My parents don’t hide the fact that I am the apple of their eye and that this is the most important thing for me to know, however I can tell how loyal and committed they are to each other, our land and our family just the same. 

They are the coldest, cruellest, and most cunning and yet the sanest and most sanguine and sagacious of psyche’s imaginal forces, and it is the inconceivable terror and the spectacular resilience their relentless drives instilled in me in equal measure that made me grow up, that set me free and that turned out what I Am. 

I love my parents madly and I am so immensely grateful for everything they and my family have been and done for me.