A tourist coach stopped for me and the coachman offered me kindly a free ride through Bruges-la-Morte.

“Do you see it?” he said, showing me a medieval map. “There  are little of no differences between then and now. The city still is a labyrinth lying beyond the laws of time and space. An unsuspecting tourist like you, Sir, will constantly return on his point of departure. Blame it on the masons of the Middle Ages who have built this city in black magic spirals and rings.”

“Why have they done that?” I asked.

He answered that Bruges had once been chosen to be a Holy City, because of the Holy Blood of Christ that was brought here by the Templars and the Count of Flanders. “So it must be in Bruges-la-Morte that Satan also unleashes the worst of his devils! And that’s why the Powers of Darkness and Light will fight each other more fiercely here than anywhere else in the world!”

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“You drive day and night on these cobblestone roads…” I sighed. “You  really must have seen a lot of strange and terrible things…”

“I sure have, Sir! Under the Tree of Eden, for instance, I have seen the old paganism incarnation of Venus mating with her Priape. It’s only much later that Our Lady of Lust became a Christian sin.”

“You mean St John’s Whore of Babylon?”

“Aye aye, Sir! And I saw many of these poor allegorical deities of paganism become new demons too, because in Bruges-la-Morte, you have to be satanical or mystical, Sir! You can’t stay on the threshold of purity or lust, you have to choose between heaven and hell, between Memlinc and Rops. Isn’t that wonderful? Purity is the Sense of the Divine, Sir… She has inspired and enhanced the talent of the Flemish Primitives, and it sure took some time before Our Lady of Lust has given birth to a number of artists who were ready to explore the unknown Antarctic regions of the soul! But at last, Mr. Félicien Rops, as  some upside-down Flemish Primitive, has done the opposite of what Memlinc did!”