The Devil's Ride

The Gardens of Purgatory, part V

One morning, the young lady of refined sensibilities was on her way to the garden bench in the Garden of Purgatory where Mr. Gurdjieff usually chose to pass the early hours of the day writing poetry when what should happen than that a large car pulled up next to her.

It was an old car, even for a timeless place such as the Gardens of Purgatory, where din…