It was fantastic adventure like any we had in our young lifes. Tracking animals, even bears, although Jerome, party-pooper, claimed differently. We had quite a raw in front of the whole gang. He mentioned squirrels and I insisted that those were tracks of much bigger beast. Very soon, our dispute was boring to everybody, including us. Picking flowers for girls or sword fighting with pine branches for the boys were on the cards. When we returned to the camp that evening, we were all very tired, but the fun was just starting. In the middle of compound, huge wooden platform has been erected. Our teacher instructed us all to bring as many branches, pine cones and wood sticks as we can find. Every little child scattered around to please her. Most energetic boys continued with their duels, whilst most of us were running around, caring some sticks. Only few children organized in groups, needless to say, those were girls. One was in charge on packing the wood on outstretched hands of carriers, or carriernesses, if that word is aloud. I am not going to say that their heap was really substantial. However if I am not going to say it, it doesn’t mean that wasn’t the case.
At one moment, I halted with the task, observing the sunset and array of colors, I have never seen before. All shades of red and purple, but also similar colors in rainbow spectrum. One can’t see any of that from my terrace, in the city, as only visible thing are other terraces and many windows of surrounding buildings. Jerome hit me in the back, pointing to others who tried Himalaya’s climbing – catching up the girls. Any fool could see that we are beaten, but we continued our separate efforts. Instead of gaining on them, we were like cavemen and them – Egyptian society. Luckily, this is not story about that; the paper would be moist from my tears.
The teacher gathered us around as red and purple colors, all over the sky, have turned into darker shades with stars coming out.
-“Sit around children, we are about to light the fire”, with our eyes opened like never before in our existence.
To say it was a spectacle should be understatement. There are no words to explain our feelings, looking at huge bon-fire in front of us. Older boys were bringing larger chunks and some children played around holding their hands, whilst my closest friends, and Jerome, sat together still and amazed. Finally, we too have joined people dancing in the large circuit, smiling and screaming. Ordinary, I would consider it quite awful, but I was carried by the moment. Soon enough we were all very tired, taking back our seat at the ground. It was blissful day, full of interesting and exhausting things, but real fun is about to start.
Older boys and some girl started telling spooky stories as this is some kind of ritual for such gatherings. Or it was, ages ago, when people were in contact with the nature, with real themselves, someone would say. All kind of monster, ogres, some raven and even monkey which doesn’t know it is wild and kills someone in some street in that magnificent city of Paris, which we all want to visit, or at least they urge as to do so. Another story, told by that girl together with lot of mimic and staged, of some painting that murders its owner or something like that, I wasn’t really sure. I would not admit it, I was so scared so I hid behind Jerome, as he was doing the same, using one fat boy as cover. His choice was much better, I will acknowledge only that.
Looking at each other, as the flames were smaller and smaller, we were ready to return to our tents, one another interesting novelty of visiting Yellowstone city, or I should correct myself park. Our teacher was on her feet, trying to gather her flock. Bold man with gray beard stopped everybody in their tracks, speaking furiously, so we didn’t comprehend him. The teacher sat back as all eyes were upon him. He took another sip from his bottle and looked at us, especially Jerome and me, with his eyes wide open and piercing gaze further into the darkness.
-“You want to hear, real, proper scary story and not this bull…” Luckily for our teacher and our ears he stopped talking, waving with his free hand around as he was chasing away many mosquitoes or even some bat. The bottle has flown away into the bon fire as he joined left hand to this waving. The teacher wanted to protest, but he started his story with deep voice before she could do anything:
-“It was very long time ago, when I was a lad. Very long time ago, yes”. There he took some pause, looking and searching for something in his left and in his right hand. His face was puzzled. At last, he looked straight at me and realized where he is and what he is doing, or it just felt that way to me.
-“I‘ll give you factual”, he stumbled using this word, “real life horror story with real life beings and not those which only lives in dark places of caves and basements. Yes, it was when I was very old, I mean very young, as young as you are today, although I don’t think I was ever that young.” Some kind of dark smile illuminated his face into grimace. Both I and Jerome, one entity from now on, shivered, not sure where to look. Magically another bottle was in one of his hands.
-“All those creatures, so called monsters, can’t hurt you; they are products of imaginative minds, very imaginative, if you catch my drift. The ones I am talking about are real and so small that you can’t see. They hide and lurk around. You aren’t aware of them, nor are they of you, because they lack awareness and that is why they are so lethal. That particular breed and season when I was a lad as you are today, people were dying like crazy and panic spread much faster and more than the disease this invisible foe brought. Very soon there was any contact between folks, so if anybody wanted to go with some ladies it couldn’t. There were no dates, and subsequently no kissing or any action which follows. We all had to come around as best as we could. I, for myself, acquired pretty, smooth and obedient ladies in form of sexy dolls, which I could seduce and fool around to my pleasing.”
Our teacher steps in the frame, addressing the man up close and personal waving with her hands in all directions. As she was between the fire and us, strange shadows were on faces on mine classmates and probably on me. However we couldn’t hear any word until the man has spoken again, offering his beverage to her:
-“Exactly this behavior wasn’t allowed, intimate socializations in the middle of the night, or day, because of the curfew. Take a sip darling, if that virus should choose to venture back, this thing is the savior.”
-“How old were you during that plague?” – Our teacher declined offering as she was on the mission.
-“I was around 9”, he was sitting, but many girls, and the teacher, screamed in astonishment. On the other hand, many older boys looked pleased, as one, brave and foolish, grabbed the bottle and drunk some. His face turned into painful grimace and he run off to the lake. It was good thing, because many other, foolish and brave lads, wanted to do the same and our tracker would probably decline giving away his precious beverage, unless you are female or sex doll.
-“The worst thing was”, he continued when the commotion settled, “the lack of toilet paper, any paper if you catch my drift”. Obviously very drunk he looked directly at me, so I grabbed Jerome even closer and he also me. The teacher had enough of it protesting to the man, but he suddenly jumped to his feet, yelling to her:
-“Sit down, I am not finish.” We were all stunted and I could tell you that some children were crying, but I won’t tell you it was me or Jerome. Nevertheless, we couldn’t avert our eyes from tall figure, walking and hands waving in front of dying flames.
-“In a record time, the shops, all shops were out of toilet paper and any very soon. It was new currency. If you wanted to buy some pork chops, you could. It would cost you some toilet paper, five rolls first week, twenty following and a lorry full of them close to Easter. Then we had to turn to books in order to survive in dignify manner. Kindle editions didn’t do any good, only real, live books like works of Tolstoy or Victor Hugo. Their value was significant in those solitude days”, he ended his story with his face down in the warm ground already snoring rhinoceros style. In silence we headed for our tents. I was thinking how if such pandemic should venture back, we will be in tricky situation. There are no more proper, live books as that drunk called them. I would like to say because we are all reading e-books now, but the true would be as nobody reads the books anymore. There are so many other interesting and fun things to do – comp games, watching television and movies, following You Tube channels and social media to stay in touch with all your on-line friends and others, your foes. This is particularly important. There is nothing better of disliking someone’s image and post hating comments on their profiles at all networks. One can do it all night and day and never to be bored of it. Also going to nature excursion is so obsolete. It was fun, but once is enough in course of my life. I can’t wait for tomorrow, when we will go back. There are many posts to check and review. It is not good to be off-line for such long periods – day and a half. And what that man meant, when he mentioned isolation isn’t good. It is the way of life for us, I am on my own 24/7 but not alone, there is my phone, my best buddy and I am in touch with everybody with no need to go anywhere.
Nero is in grave trouble. Things aren`t going accordingly. He tried everything normal for a Roman emperor, blaming it on minorities, on dogs in the government and setting ablaze half of the city. Without any success! There is only one last option as he walks alone through the dark corridor to the temple of supreme deity – Jupiter. Reluctantly he has somehow urged himself to inquire for salvation. His head is up the wall. Only problem in those days, lack of the devil. Mighty gods of ancient times could be just that - gods, but also a devil, or at least devilish. One can`t be sure what will happen out of his request. What kind of secret obstacle the gods have made on a seemingly flat path? What enigma is hidden in their sweet words? Even the smartest person in the land – the emperor is no match for their duplicity or even threeplicity.
Returning back, Nero wasn`t sure what had happened.
“Choose one future technology. That is the only thing that can save you.”, Jupiter told him, apparently relaxed.
“Pick wisely”, one of the goddesses with snakes instead of her hair smiled at him. Nero turned to god of fire and metalworking, Vulcan. “My stable boy has nicer cloths”, he laughed within himself, but restrained from any comment – this wasn`t his court, he was only a guest over here.
There were many things in front of him, but he wasn`t sure of the purpose for any, except some kind of large musical object. “This is a trap, don`t go there”, Nero is cautious. However, the compulsion is so high, he marched towards it, but just whizzed past it, hearing sighs from some females behind. “Round one to the emperor”.
After that he scrolled up and down until Jupiter said something like:
“Dear Nero, I am expected tomorrow early, at” in half a voice,” some place in Britannia, Bath. We are opening a local spa there”.
The emperor was finishing children`s song in his head “Iny, Tiny, Miny”, and he stopped in front of some little object with a big letter T. Very small with some kind of mirror and letters, together with numbers, but not typical. There was no way back, so he pointed to it. No reaction. That could be a good sign. As he was leaving, he was assured that he had made the right choice and Vulcan together with his team of semi-gods would make necessary arrangements.
“You have to hold out for a month”, Mercury escorted him out, tapping his shoulders. Nero was furious but as time was essential, he had to devise a plan to survive another 20 or so days. Luckily, the calendar was still chaotic and he as emperor could manipulate with it if with nothing else these days. In the meantime, another public spectacle should be arranged. Hopefully, there are some Christians left, lions and other big cats haven`t eaten all of them. If one should ask them, they would prefer change in diet, those Easterners are too thin, but the whole structure of Roman Empire is at stake. To be fair not all, just his valuable neck.
For once, the gods fulfill their promise. Every single person in the whole of land has received small, strange looking thing that could fit in the palm of the hand. The usage is simple as everybody has learnt it very fast. Even slaves, some donkeys and goats, together with females of the opposite sex obtain it with instructions. The Senate has to do it because recent wars, barbaric invasions and famine have decimated population of true Romans. We can add, killing sprees of any ruler since Emperor Sula, against proper citizens. Huge pillars of metal construction were erected around the empire to support new extravaganza.
Literate residents could write messages to one another with ease, but the illiterate could only watch and make some footages. Very soon, these characteristics became extremely popular. Everybody has been taking various recordings and watching them. One poor goat has nibbled its device and subsequently broke it. She is casted out of her flock, forced to wander alone. Even wolves stay clear of her, not putting her out of misery as the poor animal slowly falls in solitude and dementia.
Nero is certain that his countless videos where he shows his musical talents will be “talk of the day”. How wrong he is; the worse the act is, the more followers are there. Soon enough, all businesses and activities are halted as Twitter devices are in each hand 24/7. Many have fallen of the cliffs, not watching the road but some idiotic footage of cat playing with the hank. Others slam their vessels together with precious cargo on to the cliffs picturing their journey, God Neptune was very grateful for offerings whilst their relatives back home shared the disaster among friends and citizens. The disaster of Pompeii brought many to the coast. They were filming it, instead of saving poor victims. At the same time, standing on the shore or high above in the mountains, spectators shared video with the neighbor standing just beside him or her. Folks from Herculaneum, city opposite to Pompeii, turn their twitter apparatuses towards fire balls from the volcano, instantly sending the footages along. Those were very appreciated by all Romans in the whole empire. Many of them couldn’t wait for a similar disaster to happen just around the corner, so they could film it and send it around the globe. Needless to say that both Pompeii and Herculaneum citizens were dead and buried until XX century, although this isn’t sure for their respective twitter accounts. Some were working just fine, without the presence of their masters.
Unbelievable and speedy success of twitter prompted many deities, nymphs, semi-gods to acquire each for them. Under some other or nickname. Jupiter wouldn’t appreciate such activity. The only downside has to be, for them, not to be to play an active role, they could only follow ground humans.
Barbarian tribes stop attacking the frontier after shrewdly concluding that there is foul play with those tiny things in the palm of every Roman.
“Forests and wild plains are more suitable for our children to grow old”, they said on the way back, destroying several of those items rather than using them.
The Senate welcomes success for Twitter in repelling attackers and allows three days’ festivities in recognition for irrevocably getting rid of that pest. Nero is again certain that this is his big opportunity and once again, it ends in tears. More prominent senators tried to avert the public of dangers such devices could become, if used uncontrollably. However nobody has listened for the speakers anymore. They attempt to use Twitter and act like Trojan horse, but adventures of some silly ant mounting apple was more important than state affairs.
Exiled philosopher-poet Seneca Ovidius now has the chance for his voice to be heard once again. He embraces new technology as the means of recovering his career. Again he felt like he was back in beloved Rome instead of god forsaken land of the Istar region. Nevertheless he is very soon shocked as he gets only one follower – Etruria donkey who couldn’t help himself. Definitely a fine moment to drink some Cucuta.
In the evenings, as night shadows conqueror the land, every single person is watching the latest Messalina projects. Legion after legion marches by her bed, as borders are safe and you need to entertain the troopers somehow. Only one not watching is Nero, architect of this novelty.
“This is the worst possible outcome. I am in oblivion during mine term as ruler of this stupid realm. No way one could satisfy the populous”, he is screaming in the empty palace. At the end of his little speech he looks at the device in his hand. “Such small, seemingly fragile and insignificant thing has beaten me”, he smiles at the end but then furiously smashes it on the marble wall. Inquisitive, he approaches, realizing that Twitter is indestructible. Searching for his own feelings, he isn’t sure if he is angry or calm, jovial or gloomy. But one of many statues of former emperors is destined to be destroyed as collateral damage. One piece breaks off, demolishing with its body the device. Nero now knows what he is feeling. Anger beyond anything before, but also he is lost, drowning in cold, dark water. He runs out searching for somebody, demanding to hand him over their twitter. First Praetorian pushes him away. No luck with the rest of them. Outside, on the street, Nero is certain that his fortune is about to change. Again how wrong he is? Basic human nature is million miles from any ruler, but billions from this pathetic one.
He returns to the palace, dirty, hungry, and restless. An idea of a genius, he considers himself to be. He will repair it. Immediately, he realizes that he isn’t even close to such praise.
“Think, Nero, think. What will gods do? Gods, of course”.
He is in the corridor running in a manner he saw Christians do when lions are hot on their heels. In the great hall of the temple he is without any breath, holding high in the air broken piece.
“3 days, 45 minutes, the bet is mine”, Apollo jumps in front of Jupiter throne to claim his award. One look from his father makes him shiver and retreat.
“Dear Nero, to what we owe this honor of seeing you twice in one week?” Jupiter puts his finest face looking down at obese, sweaty emperor. Together with dirty tunic and golden corona hanging on the back of the head, revealing baldness, he is more like a part of some bad video for twitter then, the best among best, the finest among finest, Jupiter representative on Earth.
“This thing…it isn’t working”, with a lot of pauses, he finally replies.
“Can you … can you repair it?”, he asks after a surprisingly long silence. Surprisingly long for him, at least.
More silence. Nero, still dirty, sweaty and obese, but now also very thirsty and more importantly played out by those “masters of puppets”. “Here we go”, he is thinking to himself. Minerva first goes around him – “Can we help him, father” – others follow like he is helpless prey. Jupiter is at his throne, wanting to humiliate him even more. Nero hasn’t got any option but to play this game. He pretends to be disappointed with all of them, but inside he thinks: “What a charade? They are like little children.”
“We could offer you some other future technology”
“That is god idea”
“But which one?”
They all pretend to contemplate for most suitable.
“How long will this proceed”, the emperor is thinking for himself, “ I am really thirsty”.
After another round of vocal “contemplating”, Jupiter comes down and announces to the “surprise” of everybody:
“Space travel. How about space travel? Your subjects can see the Earth like we do it every day. It will be their chance to touch divinity for a day.”
Nero is ecstatic. It is a wonderful plan. Who wouldn’t enjoy sightseeing of stars and constellations and all on expense on somebody else? He apologizes, and quickly corrects himself, he admires such strong leadership and vision.
“Jupiter knows exactly what ordinary people want, when even they lack the knowledge for themselves. This is brilliant. I am going out to bring the best news”, Nero runs back, still thirsty, appreciating the guidance of divine creatures. He nearly blew it. One last problem is how to spread the news. He goes to Rostra, desperately trying to avert some intention. Again very furious, this is a rollercoaster of emotions, he decides to snatch one twitter from some unexpected and hopefully sleepy baby.
At the temple, there are celebrations.
“One way ticket to the universe.” Apollo drinks the ambrosia, happy and jubilant. “We are free of them, at last we have the Earth back for ourselves”, looking behind his shoulder to gagged and bound Prometheus and then to his father where, in his eyes, he can read – I won’t make the same mistake twice.
What To Eat?
Three men are approaching the ruins of the fortress. It looks abandoned as most walls are destroyed. Inside they try to find shelter from the harsh winter. They start the fire, without any conversation. It seems that it has been prepared for them; just to ignite it. Everyone sits to his place around it. Still no word leaves their mouth as cold winds are the only thing to be heard, apart from hauling of the wolves.
-“Fetch the wood”, silence is broken in commanding voice to the fattest and the smallest man. Also he has a dark beard all over his face. He goes out, but he is not coming back. As the fire is slowly diminishing, some figure takes the seat of an absent fat man. They are dozing until a huge fire in front of them prompts both men to look up. The third person isn’t their comrade, but some very old man, with the skin like of the shark, tiny eyes hidden inside eye cavities and fringes instead of hair. His gray finger calls them to follow him along the corridor. First part is open, but then they plunge into darkness, after some opening with white sharp objects all around; one man cuts his finger feeling it. They steadily go straight relying on touch, only. The passage is however, twisting and turning and the walls aren’t of some solid material. They are kind of alive to the touch and strange noises can be heard more-less. It could be, but it isn’t, an underground stream. Also the stench of strange sources, familiar but not so. As they move on they get used to it, still without clue what it could be. From time to time they stumble into mucilage liquid. The torch which their guide is carrying isn’t for light but its aroma prevents them from being sick. After going many miles they find themselves in the chamber with some light as the leader confronts them asking to choose one of three doors to proceed further. Both men point to the left one.
Fearfully, they do what is commanded. Darkness is behind it. First man takes one step, but he can’t breathe. Old man takes another torch from the wall, lights it and passes one to each men. After that, there are only two of them in the shrunk tunnel. The stench is awful, so they have to handle the aroma close to their noses slightly burning them. The progress is painfully slow, there is a steady flow of mucus under their feet and walls are very soft and spongy. They realize there is no way back as they stop for a minute searching for each other in the smelly darkness. At last they enter another chamber with three doors. It could be the same one, but who knows. First man grabs the handle of the door to the left. Nothing. Second man takes the handle of the door to the right. Same result. Both try to exhale but stop the motion at half way as part of the brain realizes how bad the idea is. Standing in front of the middle door it opens to them. After a few steps they realize it is some big hall of the cave, with natural stairs going down, near the side of the wall. As they descend they comprehend the size of it. It is much bigger than the chamber above. They look around and notice the little girl in white dress with blonde hair looking up to them, holding some stick and hiding under the stairs. They hear some noise from the other side, dark side. It could be an underground stream, but it is, probably, something sinister. They look at the girl with a pleading gaze, but something else comes into vision. The third man, fat, short and with a beard. He isn’t a normal self as he is walking funny by the wall and his skin is very soft like some gelatin. His eyes are nowhere to be seen.
From the dark corner a gigantic creature appears. It is the dragon, as his swirling neck is unmistakable. However his green, enormous head is different than expected. It consists of a huge sheep head and horn and a very dark nozzle of the cow. It opens its mouth, but it needs not to, because both men are already extremely frightened. The tongue is unfashionable purple and acts as hypnosis to its victims.
-“What to eat?” - The girl asks, as both men, like one, points to the third, their former companion. The dragon grabs it, but spills him out.
-“Rotten!” – The girl says, as both are going backwards.
-“What to eat?” - The girl asks again, as both men point to each other. Fraction of the second slower is grabbed by the mouth of the creature and quickly digested. Loud belch seals the deal. “Is it fed?”, the remaining man is thinking to himself.
-“What to eat?” - The girl asks yet again. The man points to her, but the dragon shakes his head and leaps forward. The man sees its throat and belch sound is in his ears, when he wakes up in his bed, immediately standing up. He walks down to the kitchen, holding his stomach. Same stench from the corridors of the keep can be smelled, but most of his brain is still in sleeping mode. He doesn’t turn on any light, but straight to the refrigerator. He opens its door. There is s pot of carbonnade stew looking at him. His belly desires something else this time, a yogurt or pickles. He doesn’t notice the small blonde girl in the lower compartment looking at him. Instead he remembers, as the lights of his brain are slowly restarting, the legs of eaten man wiggling and dangling aiming to stay alive despite its body is already in the mouth of the dragon. It was so funny, remembering the same attitude of chicken legs without their heads. As he grabs the jar of pickles he notices the child who opens it mouth:
-“What to eat?” -
The jar of pickles turns into a giant head of a green monster, emerging ever larger, but he still holds the jar and looks at the girl with last thought to his legs – “Would it be as funny as of that poor other man?”
I am here before you and I will be longafter you but in what state?
Here in my town in the Balkans it is normal to call any lad or buddy you know or you are familiar gurry. Often in conversation there is "... my gurry... you know that gurrry... he is real gurry..." and so on. As we are university city many young people come here from other parts of the country and even further as far as Greece. After a while here one young lad said to his closest friends something like "Gurry? Who is that Gurry, whom every one in the town knows? Wherever I go I hear Gurry this, Gurry that...Who is that Gurry?"
It is on river Danube accross fortress, Gibraltar on the Danube, as some history books addresses in that fashion. Low but vast mountain is behind going south. I called it "our Himalayas" since it is like island in our plains, of Panonia. The most part of the mountain is National Park, with forests, many lakes and paths through the wood, all the way to former Roman imperial city Sirmium. Thanks to my bike, I often visit the park. The problem was getting across the river as NATO bombing left the city halfs separated. Gradually and painfully slowly one after other, the three bridges were erected in space of 20 years. I had to go often, since my grandparents and mother‚s sister live accross and the dogs need often to stroll along river and into thge woods. There is always something they need, often a lot, like sack of potato and onion, so my bike and me are overloaded. "The bridge" with single track for trains, cars and trucks and narrow passage for the rest isn‚t helpful. Some potatoes, several cans and backpacks paid the price. However it is all in the past. Now I am enjoying crossing over with ease, in one go, here in Central to Eastern Europe, just outside EU zone, where Balkans meet lovely and flat Panonia on the banks of the river Danube in which my curent dog and me often swim.
From my short story "... to construct us, here copy of Notre-Dame. Our hunger, thirst and unprecedented poverty could be endured much much easier if such cultural monument would stand in front of us all. Not to mention the shade that can provide. There we can grow some plants to avoid scorching sun ... The copy of Notre-Dame shouldn`t cost much. We will be thankful for cheap material, prone to collapse so that fallen structure would put us all out of our misery. Empty bellies are less difficult to last in close vicinity of man-made praise both to God and humanity..."
Some European musika from a famous movie
Lo nuestro se
acabo y te
Performer Luz Casal - incredibile and fantastic melody
War And Dogs
...That day, somewhere in April of 1999, Jovan has visited his grandfather, during daytime, when some strange noise can be heard. They were both on the gate, as shelling from the local army unrest the birds and neighbor’s dog. Lassie, as they always have the Scottish sheepdog, even today, although it never goes out, finds himself or herself in the street. It was very afraid, but couldn’t find its way back home. Jovan noticed that the animal is in a stress so he told his grandpa:
“Move away, let the dog in. It doesn’t know where it is.” However old veteran, that fought the Nazis, didn’t mind the dog ignored his grandson, moaning about the bridge.
“Their aim is the bridge. I have watched the construction. It was the finest one in Europe at that time”, he replied, nearly crying.
Jovan slowly pushed his leg, with his own, allowing just a little space for dog to enter our yard. Nervous, frightened and abused animal hid under the car, as Jovan is following its movement. Sheer fear and horror can be detected in its eyes. When it was on the ground it used his forearms to cover its eyes. Like the awful planes would vanish if you couldn’t see them. The planers of war never take in account suffering of children and poor animals who can’t grasp any of it with their tiny but pure brains.
Finally, mine master couldn’t do anything more for poor creature, and he turned his attention to the bridge. Copying some neighbor, climbed up the dam, not very smart decision, to witness from the first hand the destruction of one’s pride and joy of entire city in a single moment. It takes many people and hours to build something and only single idiot to destroy it...
In my story Julius Caesar vs Napoleon which editors og magazines didn‚t like I put famous general to help rid of Gaulle from attackers.
Maybe I should put Joan D‚Orc to fight off invaders. You can do whatever you want and give illiteral, young girl of school age but without single day in classroom, any advantage. Girl power for her and her motherland and then you can create France up to your liking.