ON UNKNOWN ROADS

When we were born, the soul-body boundaries were still open, only later to branch out. Our childhood passed beneath the open bura of wire incubators. We clung to our favourite storybooks at night, when our parents had long since slept the sweet dreams of the righteous, and had forgotten the comforting, encouraging bedtime story. We had learned long ago that there will always be Witches, Dragons and Evil Men, because it is hard to forget something once and for all, and that the moment of redemption is often delayed.

When a tiny, egg-shell future was still dangling on our dwarf shoulders, when a tiny little girl stretched out her needle-sharp tongue towards us, and did not hold our chubby hands, because the poor little boy always wet himself and had to be changed. For lack of visibility, we became more and more transparent. Perhaps we ourselves can no longer understand how and how?! It is as if we are now everywhere chasing after the semblance of petty compromises, chasing our deliberate uncertainty, like some drunken, hungover man following us everywhere like a shadow.

The nightmares of the night, the illuminated advertisements, the theatrical performances, are deceptive. When we hesitantly and timidly approach the star actress, and she says in a light, chirpy voice: "Get your ass out of here, you poor wretch! We stare with our faces into the cold, yet bright, silent stars of the gaping cosmic void and, if nothing else, we question and interrogate them: Where did the selfish, selfish, selfish stubborn life gone wrong?!

As if we had not yet deliberately awakened to the very essence of Life, we are but slaves to our prodigal dreams, who tolerate, serve, and jump, sometimes to a slave-driving Director, sometimes to influential petty kings, stooge-businessmen! As if we ourselves are reduced to mass-produced commodities, running senselessly on the conveyor belt of Nothing.