Once upon a
time there was a man who didn’t believe in angels. One day, while he was
working in a forest, an angel came to him. They took a walk, and then the man
looked at his companion and said: ‘Yes, now I have to admit that angels exist.
But you’re not real, like us.’ ‘What do you mean?’ asked the angel. The man
responded: ‘When we got to that huge stone, I had to bypass it, and you just
walked through it. Then, when we saw an old trunk on the road I had to jump it
over and you hadn’t.’ The angel seemed to be really surprised by that response.
He said: ‘And did you noticed what happened on the fens? Then we were both able
to walk through the fog. It’s because we both have consistency which is far
stronger than the fog.’
Today I’m
the fog.
Sometimes
I’m weak. But just for a while. Then I become strong. Once my friend told me: ‘You
know, I have always admired you. That one day you’re so weak, so seek and tired
of everything, but the next day you wake up so strong, just like nothing has
ever happened to you.’ That was my response: ‘You need more strength to be weak
for two days.’
Sometimes I
hear the scream of a butterfly. I see shadows, I’m among them. I feel the abyss
gazing into me. I look in the mirror and I see a ghost. I feel like a stranger.
My body is not mine, in the eyes I see emptiness, the words that are flowing
don’t sound familiar.
A couple of
years ago I went to Biennale. I saw things that changed me, and one project in
particular caught my attention. It was a room of fog. Though its exaggerated effect was a
result of a of the broken-down fog machine and certainly wasn’t the author’s
intention, it hit me like a thunderbolt.
Suddenly I
felt nothing. I couldn’t see anything. My body stopped existing. It was like I
was dead. I was swimming in milk, in that white smoke. I was floating. But after
a few minutes the pressure of that nothingness became maddening. I couldn’t
draw breath. And then I realized I didn’t know where the exit was. I heard
muted voices of other people, but I couldn’t find the way out.
I have
never tried to leave my body since.
