Winning Without Victory

by Rolf Witzsche

48 min


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Glass Sculptures

In art we can can create images of spiritual ideas that the physical eye cannot behold, illustrating the beauty of the human soul, the gentleness and the sparkle of love. Glass Sculptures can have this effect, refracting and reflecting light.


The story is sexual, sensual - a humanist story, sensitive to life and living without bounds - a story of passion for the light of life as reflected in the fractured light of glass sculptures.

The story is situated in Venice, Italy. The story and its dialog are a part of Chapter 9 "Glass Sculptures" of my novel "Winning Without Victory" that is the 4th volume of my series of 12 novels "The Lodging for the Rose."

      Ushi wore a deep blue dress for our first evening in Venice, with a light-blue ruffled collar that extended low around her neck, graced by a thin chain of gold. Heather was dressed in yellow that matched the charm of Venice and its brightness. It also reflected her 'brightness' as a human being that had a beauty all of its own. I was the exception. I simply wore a white shirt and black pants, the standard requirement for official business environments. Ross, on the other hand, looked like he'd just come from Jamaica. Tony came close. Steve was the most elegantly dressed of us men. His dark blue silk shirt matched Ushi's dress perfectly. Sylvia was dressed in white, simple in style, but elegant in appearance. Most of what we wore was purchased, courtesy of Uncle Sam. To buy these clothes seemed like robbing the bank, considering the economic crisis that was still brewing back home in the USA. Nevertheless, our expenditures represented but an infinitesimal fraction of what was spent each single day on defenses that might become unnecessary if we were to succeed in our mission, and in what we felt it could accomplish in addition to it.

      After ordering dinner at our first night there, Heather unpacked the glass sculptures that she and I had bought earlier to celebrate our being in Venice together. We had bought them in a tiny arts store that was crammed to the ceiling with anything from die cast junk to marvelous art works of the finest glass. We were told that Venice had become famous for glass-art, produced by world-renowned masters and their apprentices who were masters themselves of this delicate art. Heather had noticed one of the sculptures in the window. According to the card in front of it, it was made by a Venetian master whose name I couldn't pronounce. It was nearly hidden by a porcelain bowl.

      Actually the store had three more sculptures of this type, similar ones, all made of perfectly clear optical glass shaped into smooth abstract forms. However, their real attraction wasn't primarily in the form itself. It was in the way in which the form worked to fracture the light. That's what fascinated me about them. To me, they represented our self-love becoming manifest in our love for each other in countless different ways. The more 'light' we put into our self-love for our humanity, the more fascinating became the sparkle of this light by reflection and refraction.

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in Chapter 9 of my novel: Winning Without Victory
online page 111 to 116

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