Inferno #03 22 ноября 2002

Письма

Inferno - Letters to the Editor.

(C) ... nothing

    ... But why should I copyright?

{
- ... I did not have sufficient strength to find
the one I need, and generally self-
word search is inappropriate here, looking at
ads, but finding by chance. except
one-day meeting on the street, on the
more than me is not enough. how to further all
will be - I do not know how it was - would never
nafig do not need it, so happy to
chasing him as a mythical
eponymous bird.

- You know, me too, sometimes all of it
gets in a terrible, each new
familiar with something does not like something in it
is such that I absolutely did not
like. I do not know, maybe I do not
normal kind of can not in fact be
so much the wrong people.
}

 Private Netmail NETMAIL
 Msg: 418 of 1104 Rcv Pvt
 From: Maria Fri 03 Aug 2001 22:48
 To: Alexander Sat 04 Aug 2001 13:50
 Subj: How terrible world ...


     How terrible the world as a horrible
circumstances. What is everywhere
injustice. Every new day
brings new torment. And although I feel
financial security, but mentally I
strongly lose.

     There is nothing good in this life.
Nothing. New worse than the previous day, and
brings new flour and anything good
some disappointment. And someone said:
"Life is beautiful." But where is the best? Really
in nature. After all, only there still is
it, and life is divided into two parts
- It is bad and tolerable. And people probably
consider it tolerable - happiness.

     But before I felt
happy, but I can not live this
happy rest of your life, but the new
enjoyable moments I have virtually none.
And if there are, then these minor
that in mind they are not delayed.

     I can not understand why people are so
afraid of losing their lives. Why? That in
its such a good do they see? Why not
can understand my mom my indifference to
Besides, I live or not? I do really is
anyway. My life, I'm not doing anyone
pleasant. I never bring happiness, but
trouble here know how to deliver their
others.
Why is my life or the fate of so severely
applies to me?

     Why test for the test?
Why do other people live in peace? I
tired. I can not, I'm all tired.
Tired of the problem, I want peace, want
rest. How I would like to close
He was a man whom I would have been needed,
who would love me that I could
withstand such a way I am, with all
disabilities. That someone was waiting for my
parish, not to say that I bring
only trouble that I could
understand and support. That I loved him and
his presence he rejoiced, and not
distressed.

     Days pass. Life passes. Step-by-
step, I turn the future into the past and I do not
I can influence it. It's like a road in
mountains on both sides of cliffs, and there
Once this path. Sometimes she
meets another, but goes further and
alone again. The sun heats the already burning the body and
Nowhere to hide, because the next only
abyss. And there are two choices: either to go
further, because sometimes in this way
found some tree, where you can
rest, hide from the sun, but can be
all suddenly cut short. And never will be. For
do this a bit, only to leave the
roads into the abyss. Some of them do,
Some stumble and fall, and some
still go to the end of the path, overcoming
all obstacles.

     Each, however, well
aware that anyway, sooner or later
still fall down. Many people have asked
themselves whether to go further or not, and
deciding to act.


                      Sincerely, Maria.

                      August 3, 2001
- + * Origin: All of our lives GAME


{

     "Nobody can say why he
love, and you see this clarification?

                                    Maria.
}

 Private Netmail NETMAIL
 Msg: 422 of 1103 Pvt Loc
 From: Alexander Sun 05 Aug 2001 22:38
 To: Maria Sun 05 Aug 2001 23:49
 Subj: Black


                 Black.


     Runs day after day, the schedule
life in flux. Work-home-work-home,
sometimes drinking with friends, seiche.
Dungeon soul firmly under lock and key.

     Encrypt all. All about me
know - fiction, mask, tinted
mirror. Approximate, without bad habits
young man. Outwardly radiating intelligence,
kindness, joy, love of freedom. Nobody
need to know how he lives. Not sleepy
from fatigue, but from the oppressive loneliness.
One among the crowd. One. Outwardly, everything is OK.
Jokes here and there. But is it worth to stay
alone, as crawls out all
that so carefully hid in prison -
pain due to aimlessly spent years
fear of the future. Previously, it was
self-deception, all lulled slogan
"Still will be." And now, when it became
it is clear that the future is well defined, and
not even affect him, inevitably
choking arm outstretched evil bony
crone-solitude.

     What remains? Dress up the headphones and dark,
almost black glasses, wearing a black T-shirt
jeans and a walk along the streets - in nothing, because
without meaning. Cut off from the world,
nobody wanted, and therefore does not need
anybody. The wind is blowing in the back, only
urging you to ensure that you have a long
decided, in the subconscious ...

     Go down into the subway, waiting for the train.
First, among the stench of antiseptic feel
air movement, not a real living
wind, and the artificial, the precursor
terrible. I do not care so much that I
standing with his back to the approaching monster
believing in a dream that if I did not turn around
and do not look at the monster - I'm obsessed
victory over him. As a zombie, staring into nowhere,
hold the door ... standing at the window,
peering into the darkness, trying to
see pictures of his past as a
film, escaping into the blackness of the tunnel without
light. From nothing to nowhere.
Fatigue takes its taking away power, although
apparently you are strong and hearty.

     Mental fatigue, growing inside
Ebony indifference to the world, on the
that the world is unfair to anyone, and most importantly
to you. Why do not I feel sorry for yourself? What I
made other such useful to about
me someone was worried when I was nobody
can not simply understand. So much soul
accumulated in the beautiful and eternal, like
a gift to someone, but not in this
the reality of that which I can entrust all
and donate. Mass of people pressing their
the presence of the radiation of each brain
corrodes your mind - like radiation.
Want to go to the silent cry:
People! Slow down!

     Madness grows, does not save the metal
in the headphones and chill. In the end, no one
do not see what I can see. Greyness
even in a friendly ice-cream saleswoman
with bright signs and umbrellas,
reminiscent of a fire in the jungle. As
wrappers from chocolate, cheap chocolate,
scattered throughout the area, interspersed with
empty bottles. And the bright, blinding
sun ... Gray, killer bright sun.
November in the middle of July. Millennial winter.

     Terminal station, the platform. The crowd goes
to the exit. Escalators, like pipes with
willingness to devour everyone.
Trying to move in a measured, go to
all to the exit of the underground hell on
povehnost. ... The sky changed color,
reminiscent of spilled coffee in the dirt. Sun
hidden ascended on clouds. Dull landscape
the industrial zone only contributes
Moreover, as the materialized and drabness
becomes as palpable as thin
rivulets of muddy water pouring out
land. Even the earth cries involuntarily
watching this form. Plants ... and pipes,
betray themselves or innocent
sky, as if stuck to it,
drinking from it take from out of nowhere the smoke
as if time went backwards, and the smoke goes
in the tube, and not vice versa. Rusty skeletons
machines emphasize that these places once
were inhabited, but now it struck
strange gray leprosy.

     Long walk along the concrete strip
way, staring at his feet. I'm ready to go so
hours, without turning, without thinking,
his feet with another plate on
another. Monotony of calms,
forget about all the latent issues. But
only at the time after which all
returns to an even greater extent,
commits trafficking component of gray snow grievances
frustration, and indifference. But I know
that now need to stop.
Folded into the lane in this area
few people, even though it brings some
relief. This only reinforces my desire for
what I thought ...

     Began to rain, the sky is crying.
Crying, begging forgiveness for my land
deeds, actions and inaction,
I have committed, for the people with whom I
hurting, without knowing it.

     We all came out of the ground, in and
return the land to answer for us.

     The smell of dust was heavy, as always
when it rains. On the street no one.
Stop. I close my eyes. And it seems
now that I'm not in the middle of the curve streets
with rickety huts, and the
infinitely wide road at noon under
scorching sun. The same soothing
the smell of dust. What a relief - just
stand on the road, not caring about anything. No
that in future no one will be
wait at home. None of that part of life is
passed without results, and realizing that
them and never will be. The fact that no
future, a normal future. I lift
face to the sky, eyes closed, trying to
feel the warmth of the sun, instead, my
burning face burn a drop of water, as
Hundreds of needles aimed at the person
from somewhere in the sky.

     Involuntarily breathe and open my eyes -
nobody noticed my stop. Indeed, in
reality was just a little time -
about three seconds. Compression of time, usually
deal for me, what could be easier.

     That's the gate to which I aspired.
The sounds of trains, cars are left behind,
now all around me from living just pathetic
mangy dog, which by its
naively thought that I could to it with something
help. I do not have anything for you,
dog. I have nothing at all that I
could give to others. Dog tries
wagging his tail, but seeing my indifferent
look askance, he suddenly sits up and
begins to howl ... My blood ran cold at the moment in
chest. Unreality of the spectacle, as if
dog was able to understand everything that I have
Now the soul, and the prophets, saluting
future, this vile hopeless
dull identical future.

     Fence, leaving behind the horizon
symbolizes all that I have lived. Section
fence in some places leaning here and there with
holes and scribbled graffiti, but similar and
continuous as a monolith, laughing
me showing what I could achieve -
nothing but the transfer of his body from the
yesterday to today, from yesterday to today, all
was playing the biggest game of his
future, which is not. To the gate. I
I know that here I have no one waiting.
Make the effort and slowly pushing the shutter.
Take a step. Step away from his line.
Nothing like it had not happened, but I
I feel like my story furious
act. She did not know that I can. AND
in retaliation, suddenly hear a
a deafening level. Somewhere very near
struck by lightning. I'm just angry I am glad,
that the first digit of the emerging storm
occurred next to me. Hence, I do not
mistaken in their guesses, I'm all right
calculated and predicted. This warning
and proof that I finally
found a way, forbidden to me. Slowly
retracts the gate, I was nowhere
observers, even the dog, which
tail between his legs after the thunder has already
ran away. Clothing gets wet, the rain intensified. I
slowly raise my head and turn back on
It opens in my view. Infinite
Halls of corroded tin here and there
Only the skeletons of buildings. Huge piles
not clear of debris.

     Somewhere in the distance - what I want.

     Cassette in the player over.
Rammstein? - They played well. my
music. flip the tape. play. Again
envelops the wall, which is voiced by this
dead world of the city dump.
To reflect on what I do. Why am I
exist, from me no joy, and
nobody I is not proud. Why? That
Currently, the storm, no one thinks
me. Yes, someone knows what I am, but
No one is thinking. Is there any meaning in words
which can not be heard? His thoughts there is no one
trust, had tried - only pain
frustration, and brick in the wall
misunderstanding. For whom continue
fight, look for its application, no
sense as well as solutions to this equation
life. There is a solution - but it is in
virtual plane, the real
solutions do not exist.

     Abandoned cooling tower, a monument
Soviet industry, before it was steaming from the
parkas. Now there's nothing there, just
a wide cone, stretching into the sky. Dusk,
sky changed its color to the color of school
ink, dirt has become less visible, storm
shifted and it was already over the horizon. Rain
weakened the force, but kept going. Approaching
concrete base, I could not help
admiring its beauty ... Handiwork
human, no one would have thought that
50 years later it will be so used.

     ... The wind at the observation platform, too
had disagreed with me. Howling gusts and its
were tough. Going to the parapet, I
looked up - the sky, dark crimson,
remained silent, as if already resigned from the
me, knowing that I almost won.
I did not belong to anybody, being between
earth and sky. And so all was quiet.
The rain stops. I looked at
horizon - my wall was in all its glory -
She was like a thread, interrupted thread to
background of an abandoned, useless, as
I industry.

     Opened the player. Took out a tape, pulling
tape and threw her ... tape
unwound the spiral of the time,
opposite direction, fell from the tower down to the
mother earth. without hesitation and without removing
headphones, stepping in virtual ... I
able to compress the time to a point.


     All open before me as
infinite reflections between the two
mirrors ...

Father.
the first thing that I can remember.
blurred memories, all out of focus,
to me about three years ... no sound,
Image is unstable, as if
the operator turns the camera
left-right. I remember only
Image ... and emotions. I feel that
All around, a grandmother, grandfather, uncle, mother
What a terribly happy and it passed
I ... I'm running from the kitchen through the hallway and saw
him with a suitcase in his hand and his overcoat. all
to shine in front of me, and it takes me
at hand.
... For the first time I tried to Tashkent
black grapes - in the middle of winter in
December ...

Mutter.
the first day, which I distinctly remember ...
I ride a bike next to his mother, who
took me a grandmother. I was always their
distinguished from the outset. mother - is
always a joy and comfort ... great
new, sparkling green-colored and smells
enamel factory. screaming swifts, summer
Morning sun nepripekayuschee, maples along
roads on the one hand, my mother something
gently says, "I wind the pedals and not
I notice that I have pursued my
Wall ...

such as orange is very high for
four-man wall with the other
side of the road ...

everything.
Black.

=== Epilogue ====

some little boys,

     some little girls,
are asking time to time

      for what and why?
and answer will just one and fine:
they searching for a same.
but can they find?

       Nobody know ... may be time?


    Before the meeting, Maria!
- + - August 4, 2001
 + Origin: ring0 crash