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Flecker's magic

Chapter 28: CHAPTER XXVII
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About This Book

The narrative follows Spike Flecker, a young, struggling painter wandering rain-soaked boulevards and wrestling with poverty, frustration, and a bungled attempt at self-destruction. A striking, dark-eyed woman who claims to be a witch intrudes into his life and sets in motion events that mix everyday bohemian hardship with uncanny occurrences. The story moves through episodic scenes that balance material pressures — money, reputation, work — against imaginative and supernatural possibilities, probing how artistic ambition, loneliness, and the hope for transformation shape choices and consequences.

CHAPTER XXVII

"Have you any reason to love mankind?"

I did not know what kind of an answer she wanted, so I had to think it out. "I do not love mankind, but I have loved a man. I don't have to think about mankind."

"Do you approve of this world?"

"If I worry about the World, will that get me two eggs for my dejeuner? I don't love mankind and I don't love the World. When I think I like to think about something real. And you don't need to look as if you didn't understand when I say 'real,' you know exactly what I mean. And you can spell the name of some big nothing with a capital letter if you want, that doesn't give it any claim on me!"

"Would you object to changing everything?"

I wondered what was the object of her questioning.

"I would object if it were just for the sake of changing it!" I told her. "But if it would rid me of my headaches and bring me a lover, I would not object! But you are a witch. You say you have great Power. Why don't you use it? You say you decided years ago to change the world! It has not been changed, unless...." A great suspicion opened in me and I could not go on.

"No," said the old witch after a minute, although I had not spoken further. "No, I didn't make the War. It was a logical, reasonable war!" She smiled her ugly, wistful smile.

I was sorry. She suffered when I shrank away. For years all men and women had been repelled by her and she had been lonely. "But why have you not acted?"

"Because I cannot decide," she whimpered. "I try and try; and when it comes to the point of turning the ring, I always have another idea. You see, anything that I can think I can have. I cannot choose because there is so much to choose from. Every day for years I have been tortured with indecision. I have several times given the ring to men, but none could decide. The ring always came back." She dried her eyes and noisily sipped some coffee. "I am not very imaginative," she said. "One needs a great imagination!

"Maybe you can help me decide."

"Aha!" I thought. "Now we begin to get down to business!"