Under The Staircase

The staircase had been built by craftsmen of great skill that had endured the strife when Martin Luther nailed his thoughts onto the church.. Beneath the oaken steps, there was a hiding place quite dark and musty and away from prying eyes. It was the birthplace of what I would call today carnal infatuation. Do not, I say, ask for details, I'd blush with extra histamine images from the time have always been suppressed, though they will never fade for any of the keen participants. But for some forty years at least I used to think we were unique. Today I truly know we are.