Church of Aphrodite’s Children
by William H. Libaw
In their dressing cubicle at the church, C. C. Robeesy’s
wife was reluctant to take off her clothes. Having already put
his own garments in the locker, he said, “Ann, you’ve
been there, done that. You shed your body shyness years ago. Remember
those sniff-me taste-me sessions? When you took us to The Center
for Higher Awareness of The Lower Functions?”
“That was different,” she said as she slowly removed
her clothing. “That was natural, out by the ocean and the
sand. Like one of those nudist camps they once had.”
Robeesy offered a way out, “Maybe we’re both getting
old for this kind of a thing, which is likely to be more than
just sniffing or tasting.”
“Oh, C. C., we don’t have to do anything here, I just
wanted to see what goes on. They are a religious organization,
* * *
After getting bare-bodied, they went inside the main room, where
they could see little more than foam. Glistering shimmering gossamer
streams of sparkling froth swirled past them. Geysers of multi-hued
foam erupted, only to float down like sluggish raindrops. Feeling
his way through the whirl and swirl in the dimly lit room, Robeesy
led his wife through bubbling eddies, twisting downdrafts and
slow whirlpools of shining suds. Sparkling bubbles bounced from
or burst on their bodies as they tried to orient themselves.
An ushering guardian found Robeesy and his wife, and led them
to the reserved first-row of cushioned seats which his name had
earned for them. They could see that carpets of blown foam covered
the barely visible walls and ceiling. Looking through the sudsy
sea of glycerin-based bubbles around them, they saw little more
than heads and arms above the less-visible bodies of the congregation.
Ann spoke above the music, “I don’t know what’s
coming, but isn’t this something?”
Robeesy responded, “Yep, I’ve never seen anything
Before long, an offstage voice announced, “The invocation
will be led by one of Aphrodite’s Priestesses for South
San Francisco, Melodie Swanson.” The foam began to thin
as source valves were turned down and hidden conduits sucked in
the airborne bubbles.
In her dressing room, Melodie Swanson was applying the last bit
of make-up to the features of her face and her shapely bare body.
Her mind, however, was occupied by C. C. Robeesy, who would be
in the up-front seat she had suggested for him. His name had told
her that he was the former senator, thus a man she’d like
to become friends with. A quick internet search with her phone
had informed her that fifteen years ago, Robeesy, then a fifty-five
year old senator, had wed his thirty-ish trophy-wife, Ann.
As the music fall silent and the lights on a stage brightened,
golden-haired Melodie came to the center of the stage and started
to speak, her bare body in a swirl of bubbles whirling down on
her. Like a siren’s harp, her rich voice played her audience
with the tenderness and wonder of one of Homer’s Hymns to
Aphrodite. Then she began the catechism, slowly bringing her congregation
up into tingling participation. After each multiple question,
she waited for the many-mouthed answer before proceeding to the
Melodie had taken her Sithe capsule as the first of the congregations
arrived. As they entered, the Church members had been given their
own capsules with some wine to down them. The Sithe had already
begun to stir them up as she started to speak. “Who wavers
not, but laughs in the sea of life? Who maketh the waves of the
sea into a foam of laughter?”
“Aphrodite,” came the response from her listeners.
“Who brought beauty to humankind? Who wrought us in the
shape of desire?”
“Who bringeth love to our lives, and life to our loves?”
“Whose wiles conquer all? Who concurs in all wiles?”
In the middle of her catechism, Melodie spotted Robeesy and his
wife in the front row seats given them at her suggestion. She
was feeling her own dose of Sithe, the exciting change as the
haven of luscious fulfillment came within reach. Knowing he had
declined the offered Sithe capsules didn’t keep her from
telling herself, Give him a big smile. Maybe later, you can give
him what he’ll want.
Melodie and her audience switched roles. Led by the Church’s
employees called “Guardians,” who kept the later interaction
orderly, the audience now voiced the questions. Each time, she
waited for their silence, then supplied them with the name of
the goddess. She smiled at Robeesy as she awaited each of her
turns, and noted with satisfaction that his eyes were drinking
her in. She made him a silent offer, Wanna start an investigation,
As she moved on to her sermon, speaking with evangelical fervor
of life as a grand and glorious seeking and finding of love, the
former senator and now investor was getting curious about this
so-called Church and about the Sithe. Even as he was watching
Melodie as an obviously attractive sex object, he repeated to
himself some words he had heard long ago from an old orator on
the Senate floor. Age does more than lend distance. I can tell
you that it borrows desire! Around him he saw what the young participants
may have viewed as tender touching. To his eyes, it was all graceless
Melodie went on about communion with the goddess, about allowing
oneself to be consumed by the fires of desire, about drinking
Aphrodite’s ambrosia, the nectar of the gods. As she continued,
Robeesy realized there would be a performance on stage “to
inspire the congregation, to ignite their own rubbing kindling.”
He turned to his wife, “Let’s take off. As a spectator
sport, sex doesn’t hold a candle to football.” Noting
her reluctance to leave, his mood shifted. He asked harshly, “Or
maybe you want to join what will follow?” Ann didn’t
realize it, but he was getting an idea that frequently troubled
him. He imagined that she had a lot more interest in sexual activity
than he did.
Ann sought to calm him, “Need you be so crude, C. C.? What
she said was moving. Besides, I saw your eyes on her, maybe you’re
the one who’s getting ideas.”
Melodie Swanson announced “The Dance of the Loveseekers.”
Covered with bursting bubbles on their lubricated skin, a bare-bodied
young couple came on stage. The senator and his wife threaded
their way out as Melodie began to describe their activity.
* * *
As they were putting on their clothes, Ann said,“I wouldn’t
have minded watching for a while. Maybe even the whole thing,
if it was done like graceful dancers.”
Robeesy took her remarks as related to the infrequency with which
he sought sex with her these days. Disarmed by that thought, he
said, “We could go back, but they’re not gonna dance!”
A knock on the dressing-room door interrupted them. Half-dressed
Robeesy opened it, and was surprised to see still-naked Melodie
Swanson. As she spoke, her voice showed the warmth that had helped
her rise in an organization where skin-deep was what seemed to
matter. “I saw you and Mrs. Robeesy leaving early, so I
stopped by. I hope it’s not prying to ask why you didn’t
Ann’s eyes slipped down from Melodie’s face to her
Still disturbed by his spouse’s interest in staying, Robeesy
responded to Melodie, “If I heard you right earlier, the
undressing was to free us. To strip the veneer of position, name
and clothing that keeps people apart. So our name shouldn’t
matter to you, should it?”
Melodie curtsied demurely, saying “You are absolutely right,
Senator. Being bare of buffering cloth, I have an unfair advantage.
So it’s wrong for me to be here now.” She paused to
present him with a jiggling turn-around. Then she continued, “About
the group feast that will start soon, I don’t care for it
much myself. Nor does the goddess insist, there are lots of rooms
here for privacy. Aphrodite has many paths for those who truly
Robeesy was still in a sullen mood as he responded. “Many
ways, you say. But they all require those little pep pills we
were offered? What’s in them?”
“The Sithe, you mean? It’s Aphrodite’s gift.”
Melodie knew only that the drug and Aphrodite’s Children
had been around for a few years. “It’s an aphrodisiac.
The aphrodisiac, you could say.”
“I didn’t know there were any, other that crude stuff
like . . .”
She interrupted, “Oh, no. All that stuff’s terrible.
But Sithe is marvelous. And it’s . . . well, it’s
The former senator, now an active investor, was getting interested,
“Is it addictive? Is it legal? Or is it no more than a new
package for some of the drugs that get the body fluids pumping?
I’m sure you know, to help men get it up. And some to get
women’s juices flowing.”
Melodie started to answer, “It’s certainly not addictive,
I wouldn’t go near it if it was. And it doesn’t work
like those . . . “ She stopped talking. Suddenly self-conscious,
she turned and left them, but not before saying, “But it
does get the juices flowing.”
Forty-five-year-old Ann was aggravated. “Did you see that?
Bouncing that young bare body and batting her eyes at you, that
was bad enough. But did you see? Before she left? The insides
of her thighs, they were actually dripping!”
Seventy-year-old Robeesy had seen the droplets running down Melodie’s
thighs. They acted like intoxicating alcohol that fell on and
flared the remaining ash-covered hot coals of desire within him.
He had been thinking about exploring his curiosity about Sithe
and this church. Now he added Melodie to that list.
* * *
After her encounter with the senator and his wife, Melodie was
fretful as she returned to the congregation. She asked herself,
How could I? Teasing him like that. Must be the damned Sithe.
Annoyed with herself, but still driven by the flame in her loins,
she looked around for consolation in satiation. She found a young
man she had spotted earlier. Then she took him to one of the small
dining rooms. There they found delights small and mighty, all
under Aphrodite’s nightie.
* * *
Melodie woke the next day with her pickup beside her in her bed.
She looked at the young man beside her, He really is attractive.
Maybe again? She reached over and started to caress him. Then
she drew back abruptly, and leaped out of bed. I’m such
a fool. Should have known better.
The young man awoke, and looked at her as he said, “Last
night was out of this world! How about some more, Melodie? I could
make love to you all day long.”
“Yeah, sure,” she snorted.
“You’re really attractive, Melodie. I mean, really,”
She was too bummed-out to be cautious, “You’re a new
He answered, “Third time, why?”
“That’s long enough, you ought to know by now. What
were you thinking about all last week? Sex, maybe? And, besides
thinking, what were you doing about it? Tell me! Tell me all about
It was clear that he wasn’t answering, so she went on. “That’s
the way it is with Aphrodite. The highs are way up there. And
in between, there’s zilch, nothing, except thinking about
She saw that he still didn’t understand, so she said, “Not
sure you agree? Give me a nice hug. Then think again!”
He started to embrace her. And soon realized he didn’t want
to go on. “You mean everyone, all who come here, they all
get this way? All get hooked on that Sithe stuff?”
“Some think about sex a lot more, some less. Nobody does
much, except on Sundays at the church with Sithe. But hooked,
no! Believe me, I’d be the last one to get into something
addictive. Anyone, they can all leave Aphrodite whenever they
“Okay, sis, I’m not stuck! I was doing okay before,
damned if I’m going to let that Sithe run my life.”
As he angrily pulled on his clothes, she said to herself, By-by,
Buster. See how you like the dishwater sex you’ll go back
to without Sithe.
Free of yesterday’s mate, she brewed coffee. And had some
with her bath as she started to think about the senator. He kept
looking at me. Maybe he’ll come next Sunday. Wonder if he
tints that silver hair. She looked down to her triangle of pubic
hair swaying slowly beneath the water. Silver threads mixed with
gold? Foolish nonsense again! Rotten Sithe. Better go to work.
* * *
Others on Aphrodite’s staff were already there when she
arrived, getting their minds away from sex. Letters had to be
sent to the new visitors, reminding them about the joy of belonging
to the new church, and mentioning the tithe members must pay.
Then came the tougher job, deciding how to deal with those members
who were sluggish about contributing ten percent of their wages
to The Church of Aphrodite’s Children.
After a while, their supervisor, Zeke Hollenbeck, came in. He
had an office right next to Melodie’s cubicle. She went
in to ask him about handling one of the reluctant tithe-payers.
She looked at the nameplate on his desk, “Hezekiah Hollenbeck,
Trustee,” but not at him. As they spoke, she barely glanced
toward him. It was better that way, it avoided what none of them
wanted, the futility of seeing their fellow workers as sex objects.
As Zeke responded to her question without looking at her, she
noticed that he didn’t sound well.
Before she left him, she sought to learn more about the organization
of the church. “Does Mrs. Rosenhepple run the whole show,
Zeke? Are there others behind her? Men, I mean.”
“Flo Tillie Rosenhepple, she’s it. The boss.”
Apart from phone calls, Zeke had been in recent touch with his
boss just once, when he had flown down to L. A. to get his promotion
from chief of the local guardians to one of the leaders of the
growing organization. But he used what he had heard to imply that
he know more. “She’s something else. I’m not
talking about her appearance, she really runs everything. Her
husband’s dead, he was some kind of a biochemist. He concocted
the stuff. It might have corroded his liver or maybe his kidneys,
and that might have done him in.”
Melodie had heard that last part before, and it worried her. When
she started to inquire about it, Zeke said, “I’m not
feeling too good, I may just go home,” and cut her off.
Just after Melodie got back to her desk, she got a surprising
phone call that lifted her spirits. It was from Senator Robeesy,
he wanted to talk with her and would call again in a few days
when his schedule was more clear. He also wanted to know more
about The Church of Aphrodite’s Children, so she gave him
When she stopped work to go for some take-out lunch for herself
and a couple of the others, she poked her head into Zeke’s
office to ask if he wanted some food brought in for him. He told
her he was going out for a long lunch. When she voiced surprise
because he wasn’t feeling well, he said the lunch might
be important business, it was with Senator Robeesy.
Later, when Zeke left, Melodie had an idea that emboldened her
to step into his office for a few minutes. She knew the Sithe
supply was in the little safe, and she had previously noted where
he concealed the key to the safe. She opened it, took two of the
little capsules, put back the key, and started to leave the office.
Her idea was to make a mid-week date to meet the senator at her
own apartment, and then to use the Sithe with him.
She paused before she reached for the door. On the wall was something
new, a framed photo above the nameplate, Florence Matilda Rosenhepple.
The picture showed, towering above her desk, a woman of middle
age and massive proportions. Good grief, thought Melodie, I didn’t
realize she was that large.
* * *
At lunch with the Senator, Zeke answered some questions about
Melodie. She had quit college to start working about a year ago.
Not because she needed to earn a living. She wanted to get ahead,
she saw a good future in the Church. When Melodie was young, she
had a mother who was into drugs, and there was no father around.
She had found a way to support herself, and probably her mother,
since her high school days. Peddling herself probably paid a lot
better than when she came here.
Zeke then told the senator a little about the organization of
the Church. But before he could inquire about Robeesy’s
interest, he had to leave and go home. He was getting feverish.
A couple days later, the senator called Melodie again, and made
an appointment to chat with her about The Church of Aphrodite’s
* * *
Now, days having past, the senator knocked on Melodie’s
door. As she invited him in, he cooly noticed again how attractive
she was. Melonie, however, was more hot than cool, still hot from
her last Sithe capsule. With a big warm smile, she said, “Do
come in, Senator Robeesy.”
“Please, call me C. C.”
“Would you like a drink, C. C.? By the way, I do have some
Sithe here, in case you’re curious about experiencing it
privately, rather than at the church. Maybe you’d like to
take some with me before your drink. It takes a little time, you
know. Of course, if you’d rather, I can give you both capsules
to try at home with Mrs. Robeesy.”
Her forwardness sprinkled cold water on the hot coals within the
conflicted man. The ill-at-ease ex-Senator said, “You’re
a very attractive woman, Melodie, but I’m not sure we know
each other well enough to really enjoy intimacy.”
Then, after an awkward pause, Robeesy went to his subject, “What
I would like is to know more about your church, and also about
those little capsules. It’s an odd name you people have
for that stuff. Sounds just like what the grim reaper uses. ‘Sithe,’
the pill. And ‘scythe,’ the tool he uses to cut us
down. The stuff has physical after-effects?”
She hedged, “For some, there is a minor after-effect. Thinking
about sex too much. There’s rumors about more serious things,
but no one believes them.” She offered him the two capsules,
and touched her glass to his in a toast, “To the best of
Ignoring the offered capsules, Robeesy asked, “How long
have the two been around, Sithe and the church?”
She knew little, “Maybe a few years. Right now, we’re
only in San Francisco and L. A. But I’m sure we’ll
be expanding, that’s really why I joined.”
About the two capsules in her open hand, Melodie asked, “One
now? Or none now? Maybe you’d rather see what two will do
for you and your wife.”
What didn’t sit well with Robeesy was the thought of taking
both capsules, taking them for Ann and himself when he went home.
The otherwise-insightful former senator had a blind spot, the
extent of his wife’s interest in sex.
He didn’t realize that he was paying a price for the now-gone
years when he sought frequent sexual activity, usually within
his marriage, occasionally outside it. The price? Projecting his
own past feelings, imagining them to be his wife’s current
feelings. He had stuck himself with the notion that, apart from
Sithe or any other drug, Ann was at-present highly interested
in sexual activity.
Then something like current salvation came to Robeesy’s
mind. He saw a solution, a fix that would, at least now, fix everything
for him. If he took only one of the capsules, took it for himself,
that might make for a great night in bed for Ann as well as for
him. So he reached for and took one of the two Sithe capsules
in Melodie’s hand.
To Melodie, that meant that Robeesy wanted sex with her, right
here and now. That would help her make the senator a useful friend.
So she promptly put the other capsule in her mouth and downed
it with a sip of her drink.
Seeing her action, Robeesy realized he should have explained before
he took the capsule. Tardily, he said, “I’m taking
this one for me to try at home. I didn’t mean to suggest
After a long pause, Melodie managed to say no more than, “Goodby,
Senator, and good luck.” Too proud to search the streets
or phone for another man, Melodie spent the long long night with
no more company than herself.
* * *
Early in the morning after Robeesy’s active night with his
wife, he reached for her again. That was when he experienced Sithe’s
do-nothing after effect.
Once that sunk in, the silver-thatched old fox had made inquiries
that led him to a certain place. The former senator took an early
flight down to the appointment he had made later that same morning
in the lair of Aphrodite’s first lady, Florence Matilda
Rosenhepple. He went to her office to smoke her out about what
seemed a thriving new business called a church.
When Robeesy met Mrs. Rosenhepple, his eyes gave him a surprise,
her size. The bust and hips that made the waist small, the sturdy
long legs that brought her eyes up to a level with his own, they
brought a magnified view of the long-ago gay-nineties. He was
also surprised that he couldn’t take his eyes off her. The
sight of the woman promised cheery novelty in exploring that abundant
body, that freshness soon to be followed by unique ecstacy.
Mrs Rosenhepple had received word earlier that Robeesy had visited
Melodie, and had taken a Sithe capsule with him when he left.
Forewarned about all that, she extended a hand as she said, “Please
call me Flo Tillie, Senator.”
Robeesy’s mind was in a whirl as he replied, “Then
you must call me C. C.” He had a sudden concern: After the
shake, he might move his hand to her waist for a hug and more.
So he didn’t shake. Instead, he greeted her with a wave.
He was also having difficulty getting his mind back to the purpose
of his visit, prodding to appraise her strength and weakness as
a business owner.
Mrs. Rosenhepple knew her Sithe, and sensed his difficulty immediately.
Her own intent was to befriend the former Senator, so she sought
to help him with a simple suggestion: That they not look at one
another as they spoke. Accepting her suggestion, he looked elsewhere
as he went on. And then he found it easer to get back to his intention
to probe her “church” business.
He hinted about possible inquiries from the government about the
church’s tax-exemption.. Robeesy then insinuated that there
might be congressional probes into unauthorized drugs. He went
on to imply that Melodie’s giving him Sithe was designed
as a prelude to extortion.
When she responded, Robeesy got another surprise, Flo Tillie’s
calm ability to cushion his blows. “Oh, my! I can see how
bad it must look to you, Senator. But it’s all my fault.
Even though we’re expanding so rapidly, I should have done
more to help Hezekiah with some understanding that might have
forestalled what happened.
“As for Melodie, I am at fault for not seeing that someone
gave that girl what she’s never had, some real help. She
was raised more by neighbors than by a mother whose main devotion
was to getting high, and then low. I must try to make amends to
Melodie, to Hezekiah, and of course to you, Senator.”
Although off-balanced by her response, Robeesy went on as he looked
around the room. He mentioned the possibility of investigations
by old-fashioned religious organizations, although of course not
instigated by him.
That prompted Mrs. Rosenhepple to note that her booming business
had needs for friends in high places, as well as needs for investment
Then, with his guard down, she slipped in a blow below his belt.
To make reparation for the distress that Melodie had caused him,
Flo Tillie insisted that she should send a supply of Sithe to
his home. “Surely,” she said, “Mrs. Robeesy
would like to try Sithe. As would you like to try more, of course.”
The second phase of the Sythe he swallowed—the sex-in-the-head
aftermath—was now working him over. So the notion of himself
responding to his wife’s active desire for sexual activity
was exciting. However, the thought of Ann driven by Sithe to seek
gratification beyond what he could provide, that was jolting and
more to Robeesy.
That was when Robeesy realized that Flo Tillie was no pushover,
but rather a heavyweight battler. Rather than box with one hand
protecting his private parts, he decided to seek a draw. More
important, now he wanted to explore the possibility of her as
a formidable business partner. “Let’s quit shadow-boxing,
Flo Tillie. Right now, I’d rather not give any to my wife.
And I suspect that’s not news to you.”
Then Robeesy went on with some ideas about Sithe as a product
to be marketed. “The stuff is marvelous in its way. However,
it might be improved. Maybe a lighter less-lasting version could
find a market with people older than Aphrodite’s Children.
Maybe the risks associated with it, if there are real ones, might
be reduced by a good drug company. Are you sure you’re not
wasting the stuff on those kids? The food of the gods now goes
to those young animals. A diluted sugar-coated variation might
be marketable to those with more money and less passion.”
“You don’t think older people would complain?”
she asked. “About the sex spinning in their heads afterwards?
I’m not sure you fully understand everything about Sithe,
C. C. Let me do something that will make it crystal-clear to you.”
Then she wrapped her arms around him in a warm tight hug.
Robeesy was confused. Despite her talk about Sithe, the hug he
saw coming meant she might be interested in intimacy with him,
just as he was with her.
But as soon as her arms were around him, his ideas and feelings
did an abrupt reversal. He really wanted no part of her! He realized
she was showing Sithe’s effects, and not her own feelings.
The leader of the Church of Aphrodite’s Children saw what
was happening with him. She said, “C. C., we all know that,
totally apart from Sithe, there have always been two aspects to
sex. One is what you could call ‘Sexual feelings and ideas
in the mind.’ The other part amounts to ‘Sexual activity
with the body.’ With Sithe, however, there’s this
difference: The-sex-in-the-head part is more intense. The mental
part also persists longer; but the body’s interest in sexual
action soon shrinks.”
She thought Robeesy might be of great help to her. And continued
to treat him as an insider. “Just between us, C. C., that’s
where the sex-pill’s name, Sithe, came from. It was kind
of a joke at first. Then somehow it got to be the name, which
is short for what amounts to an after-effect: Sex In The Head,
Then she said, “It looks like we have much to talk about,
C. C. Shall we meet again? Meet when?”
Robeesy was as interested as she was in exploring what they could
do together. He said he’d call within a week. When he left,
he and his Sithe capsule gave Flo Tillie a quick hug.
* * *
For Melodie, the days after her attempt to make a friend of the
ex-senator had been difficult. In the early morning after her
restless night without him, she went to work her church. Nobody
was there but Zeke, who called her into his office as soon as
he saw her.
Unknown to Melodie, Zeke had deduced, from having taken frequent
count of his unsafely-deposited supply of Sithe, that she had
made off with two of the capsules. Zeke then got Melodie to admit
that she had given one of the capsules to Robeesy to take home,
and taken the other herself. He told her to go home for a week
to clear her head, then they would talk. During that time-out,
she had to endure the endless thinking about sex that followed
two doses of Sithe within one week. She took a second week off,
which calmed her and cleared much of the Sithe from her head.
However, before she went back to work, she got a bummer call from
Zeke. He had spoken to Mrs. Rosenhepple about what had happened.
And the boss lady had told him to send Melodie down for a meeting.
* * *
Now Melodie sat with ginger jitters in her boss’s boss’s
L. A. office. Then Flo Tillie entered. The initial nature of their
encounter, however, was not what Melodie expected. The leader
of Aphrodite’s Children took one look at her, and then greeted
her with wordless open arms. Melodie was surprised by that; she
was also relieved of her nervousness. Anyone with receptive arms,
male or female, had been familiar territory to her for years,
years before she joined of the Church and used its Sithe. To Melodie,
that gesture suggested, Somebody not only likes me, but may well
have the hots for me.
She walked toward Mrs. Rosenhepple, who reached down and then
embraced her like a wayward child. “Melodie,” she
said, “won’t you let me try, try to give you some
real help? Even though it might be tough for you to take?”
Suddenly ill-at-ease again, Melodie Swanson didn’t know
what to think as Flo Tillie went on. “You may be one of
those people for whom Sithe can do more harm that good. Either
way, will you let me help you? You’re smart and you’re
ambitious, let me help you go back to get a really useful education.
And help you decide about work that may suit you better.”
Melodie’s mind swirled with confusion. What’s going
on? She really means all that? Or just wants to get rid of me?
Can I actually give up Sithe? Do I have to give up a job with
good prospects? I’ve always worked under Aphrodite’s
nightie, can I work outside it? The young woman could only rise
on her toes to say to the ear above her, “I just don’t
know. I have to think about it.”
Then she flushed as Mrs Rosenhepple planted a motherly kiss on
her cheek and said, “Stay in town. Two or three days should
be enough. Then call me; we’ll need time to work this out
published work includes the books "How We Got To Be Human"
(2000, Prometheus Books) and "Painting in a World Transformed"
(2005, McFarland & Company). Prior to his present work as
a writer, he was an electronic design engineer.
Church of Aphrodite’s Children
© 2011 by William H. Libaw