The mechanism of memory is complex. The Time Machine--a dream of dreamers--was created long ago. It is human memory. And I am certain that we have been granted the power to remember everything; that in the depths of the human brain are preserved imprints of every moment we have lived in past and future lives. The only complication lies in the ability “to find” them in the labyrinths of memory. To find them by secret guiding signs: smells, a familiar place, a certain refraction of light, everyday trifles.
To unwind the ball of string as I make my way to my beginnings.
I am my memory, the sum total of all the moments I have lived. Moreover, my "I" divides and multiplies: I am an infant, and an elderly person, and an artist, and a thief, and a murderer. All of these possible past incarnations of mine swarm past in my subconscious like phantoms, and when I begin a monologue in my own name (as I see myself at this very moment), I inevitably put it into the mouth of a phantom from my own midst. And that which seemed to me to be sincere and the only true thing when I was writing is only one facet of a thousand and, like the crooked mirror, does not reflect the features, but distorts them. Although who knows, perhaps only crooked mirrors tell us the truth. I see crowds and crowds of people. Among them are artists, captains, artisans and kings, musicians and circus performers, milkmen and murderers. And all of them are me. And every time I begin to wind the thread that leads me out of the labyrinth toward the light, instead of exiting I fall into a new labyrinth. In each of the labyrinths a Minotaur lies in wait--sin that arrives from my former incarnation. And my goal is to kill the Minotaur.
Here are several characters from my spectral retinue:
Apollo (Rational Force)
Dionysus (Elemental Force)
Gaiea (Primordial feminine, fertility, the mystery of birth passed on from mother to daughter)
Homeless Wanderer (The Wandering Jew)
Martyr Hero (for whatever you like: faith, fatherland, ideas)
Whore and Nun
Joseph, sold into Egypt
–Well, who else is there, come out into the light!
The characters are wearing masks, one transmutes into another. A mirrored hall, where the mirrors reflect one another, fracturing the reflections. A carnival of phantoms; bifurcation, disorder, division of my self.
...In his own likeness and image...
A crowd of mirror werewolves. Welcome to the theater of the absurd.
Abel = Cain.
And so, ladies and gentleman, let's begin.
The theater is a dark pantry full of junk. The hall is a wardrobe. I am an actor--and a spectator. The curtain rises. The stage depicts a wild jungle. Climbing flowers encircle beautiful trees. A damp, sensual mist rises to the sky from the new earth. Two multi-colored birds with long beaks and tall crests perch on the nearest branch.
"Chirlim-chirlyum,” says the first.
"Chirlyum-chirlim,” says the second.
"Chirlyum-chirlyaminam?” asks the first.
"Tsi-koon, tsi-koon,” confirms the second.
"Tsipun, tsypun-tsy,” laughs the first.
The birds fly away.
Mowgli, the son of a wolf, brother of Romulus and Remus, cautiously peers out from the bushes. Naked Eve comes out from the thickets. A damp, sensual mist rises from the earth to the sky. Eve is wearing a scarlet flower in her hair, in her hands she holds an apple (not yet the forbidden fruit, but simply an apple, scarlet, full of life-giving juice).
At her feet, at her feet that are the color of wheat, silky wheat, at her feet the Serpent sliters. He is smiling. The Serpent is wise and old. His eyes are as sweet as honey, eyes that shed honey, sweet honey, a mellifluous gaze, viscous, tenacious and idle with black chinks for pupils. They say that snakes never blink. No, there is no need to be worried. It is not wrong that the Serpent talks to Eve. The Serpent is one of God’s creatures, one who long ago tasted the gift of knowledge. Everything is going according to God’s plan. Eve sits down on the trunk of a fallen tree, the Serpent winds himself around her legs, places his head on her stomach and closes his eyes
It's hot. Damp, sensual mists rise from the earth to the sky. Now apart from Mowgli, who has just seen a woman, a naked woman, for the first time, the goat-legged Pan is also watching Eve. Pan has the sad eyes of a spaniel. He's very embarrassed by his goat legs.
Eve, lost in sleep, slides onto the grass. Instead of a pillow, the Serpent obligingly places an armful of leaves and flowers under her head. The wolf cub Mowgli creeps closer to the bushes and is rooted to the spot. His mouth is watering.
The Serpent raises his head as a sign of warning and looks with his unseeing eyes in the direction of the stirring branches.
"Probably I shouldn't." Mowgli is licking his lips.
The god Pan takes out his reed pipe and begins to play.
Sleep, sleep, sleep, sleep, sleep,
sleep, snow, salt...
sleep, snow, salt, sigh...
sleep, snow, salt, sigh, stone...
sleep, snow, salt, sigh, stone, tone, throne...
sleep, snow, salt, sigh, stone, snake, fake...
sleep snow, flow, know, no, woe, ...
sleep deep, don't weep, licking lips, stealing eyes, tears, cries;
sleep sigh, hush you bye, don't you cry, don't you cry;
sleep stone, through tone, through time, skipping line, slipping silence;
sleep time, time's not mine, time is like rhyme, grabs the sounds;
Time is tense, time is tight, I'm tired, this child's wild;
Time is fine, terr-ri-fying, torches terror, terrible Lera...
--Terrible child, nasty and wild, who locked the Cat, the Siamese Cat, this beautiful pet?
She dressed the Cat, she dressed the Cat in the suit, she dressed the Cat in the suit with the hood; she dressed the Cat in the suit with the hood and the hat; the suit, the hood and the hat from her bear, her teddy-bear. The Cat could not bear it and cried in despair. And then she declared that the Cat is the King. The King is the Cat. The Cat, the Siamese Cat, the Siamese twin, don't you scream, this Siamese twin is the King, is the King. He scratched you, right? He bit you, right? So, he was right!
...it's not original to die, but neither it's to live...
You'll be all-right.
Don't you cry, hush you-bye, I will quit, please go to sleep.
No, I know; know-snow, snow flake, flake-fake, fake snake, snake-serpent, serpent-pet,
pet-cat, they say that snakes don't blink, Cat-King,
throne, tone, stone, sigh, salt, snow,sleep...
tone, stone, sigh, salt, snow, sleep...
stone, sigh, salt, snow, sleep...
sigh, salt, snow, sleep...
salt, snow, no, I know,
nosleep, sleep, sleep, sleep, sleep, sleep, sleep...
"So what happened next, Serpent?" Eve asks. Her eyes are half-closed. Her reddish hair flows down to her bare shoulders. Her right hand cushions her head on the fallen tree, while her left hand unconsciously plays with the apple (simply an apple, not the forbidden fruit, but simply a scarlet, juicy, life-giving apple).
The Serpent: And in their arrogance they decided to build a tower that would reach the heavens. They collected stones and began to build.(The Serpent becomes silent and yawn).
Eve: Well, continue
The Serpent: And the tower grew higher and higher. It was already taller than the highest
tree in the area, than the tallest structure. Clouds brushed against it as they floated past. The stone protuberance as a symbol of
human arrogance. But God confused
their languages so that they could no longer understand one another, in order
that they escape perdition in the name of their own ignorance. They ceased to understand one another
and quit building the tower. And
so it stands, bent towards the earth, a stone protuberance, a creation not of
reason but of arrogance.
Eve raises her beautiful eyes with their velvety lashes in the direction of the Serpent. Innocent, persistent, shameless (shame-less, without shame, not yet knowing shame) eyes. And she asks:
Eve: What is arrogance?
The Serpent keeps silent. The Serpent is smiling. He is old and wise. Eve takes a bite of the apple with her white teeth. Juice runs down her lips and falls to the grass. Sensual mists rise from the earth.
The Serpent closes his eyelids. The outline of a gigantic smile appears in the air. It is the Cheshire Cat. The Cat-King. The smile without the cat that is a cat without a smile.
The god Pan, who quit playing a long time ago, is sleeping on a tree. He's dreaming about nymphs. Eve is eating the apple. Juice runs down her lips and falls onto the grass. Eve is wearing a scarlet flower in her hair. The Serpent is sleeping or he's pretending to be asleep. The wolf cub Mowgli crawls off into the jungle. It's hot. The smile of the Cheshire Cat melts in the air.