Totalno nije ironija...

Day 2,181, 13:39 • Published in Thailand Serbia • by Kapetan Uks

I tako, upoznam jednu curu.
Vranokosa, svetao ten, ima kao neki mladež i blago izražene crte lica - izduženo i pomalo zaokrugljeno lice gde se umesto jagodica ili očiju najviše ističu nos i brada. Mis'im, daleko od toga da su joj oči neupadljive. Jeste, pomalo su sitne, ali fantastično oblikovane; savršeno oble pri korenu nosa, a na krajevima oštre poput najoštrije norveške zime. Slušao sam da pričaju kako ne postoje crne oči, niti -kad smo već kod toga- bilo šta što je zaista crno u prirodi. Kažu, najviše što se može u tom pogledu je da kosa, latice ili eto, oči budu izuzetno tamna nijansa neke boje. Sve nek' je i tako, ovo su za mene fantastično crne oči...

Viđam je samo u vrlo specifičnim atmosferama. Nikad nije dan, za početak. Kao da svetla fali, bez obzira gde smo, kao da se svaka naša scena dešava pod osvetljenjem jako zaprljanih minjonki postavljenih uza zid. Pomračina oko nas se pretvara u dimnu izmaglicu koja ima karakterističan miris smoga, topla je i nekako bogata, kao da je noć ranog proleća a ne britka, norveška, višednevna zimska noć. Tako u dahu jednog izmišljenog severnjačkog proleća stojimo u tišini, svakom rečju ostajemo u krugu neizgovorenog, sijajući sivilom okeanskog neba.

Ona nikad ne govori, za sebe ne znam - svaki put me osećanje prevari da je misao, misao mi izgleda kao glas, ali njoj to naizgled ne smeta. Obod lica joj se meša sa izmaglicom, krajevi usana se talasaju kao da ih gledam u polusnu. Ako izgovaram reči, ona nije podsmešljiva prema njima; ako ih izgovaram, one nemaju vrednost. Zagrejan sam iznutra, jedan tamni plašt me, mreškajući se, obuhvata tako da ne osećam svoje telo već jednog drugog sebe. Dobro se sećam jednog slučaja kad sam se strašno napio - svaki dodir sam osećao ne kao informaciju čula, nego kao sam duh dodira. Tako je i sad, jedino što nema tog duha dodira, ima samo onoga što je dodirnuto. I kad kažem da je toplo, to svakako nije toplina koju zaista osećam.

Ispred nje sam i više nego ogoljen, rasipam se od spolja ka unutra i to rasipanje samo jače naglašava osećaj da sam sav tu. To što me okuplja i sjedinjuje je gusta želja da budem ja, zapravo ne ni to, već samo neka težnja da se bude. Umesto emocije osećam jedno klupko dima koje se komeša i rastače u teškim nijansama sive. Taj je dim isti onaj koji nas oboje obuhvata od spolja... Nikad dugo ne mogu da zadržim fokus; cela naša slika odlazi bez bljeska, prekida, samo se vraća negde unutra, polagano i neizbežno, možda malo mekano i sluzavo, kao puž u kućicu. Ali ono što sam ostao bez vida, sluha i nogu koje trnu ne želi da se vrati kući - eto me u deliću misli ispred Jupitera, gledajući njegove oluje i najlepše mesece koji kruže oko Sunca; ni o čemu se ne pitam, ne prisećam se, ne razmatram u svesti; samo osećam jak, rastući strah od tog svemira u kojem sam se našao, stotine hiljada kilometara od ikakvog tla pod nogama, ostavljen elektricitetu i vatri na nemilost, sa strahom koji ne može da prođe, jer nema tela da ga potroši...

Smatram da treba napasti eKinu...

ISTO OVO SAMO NA INOSTRANOM!

So I met this girl...
Raven-haired, light-skinned, has some kind of birthmark and only slightly pronounced facial features - a prolonged and somewhat rounded face with an accent on the nose and chin rather than the cheekbones or the eyes. I mean, it's not like the eyes are unnoticeable - sure, they are a bit tiny, but incredibly well shape😛 perfectly rounded towards the base of the nose, sharp at the edges like a brisk norwegian winter. I've heard people say that there are in fact no black eyes, that there are no naturally black things in general. They say that most you can get of hair, a flower or, well, eyes is a very dark tone of some other colour. Be it so or not, to me those eyes are mesmerisingly black.

I only see her in very speciffic settings. First of all, it's never daytime - there's always a lack of light, like every scene we're in is lighted by dirty lightbulbs set against a wall. The gloom arround us turns into a smoky haze which bares a distinct scent of smog, warm and rich as if it were not a day-spanning, sharp norwegian winter night but a mid-spring one. So in a breath of a fictional northern spring, we stand in silence, with every word within the realm of unspoken, glowing with an ocean-sky grey.

She never speaks. I can't say whether I do - every time a feeling tricks me, posing as a thought; the thought sounds like a voice; she doesn't seem to mind. The edges of her face blend into the mist, the edges of her lips flickering as if I was looking at them in a dream. If I do say words, she's not derisive about it; if I do say words, they are left meaningless. I feel warmth inside and there is a dark cape, rippling over me so I don't feel my body, but I feel the other self. I recall quite clearly a time when I got terribly drunk - I felt every touch not like a sensory information, but as a spirit of the touch itself. It is like that now, only there is not even a spirit of touch, there is only that which is being touched and when I say it's warm, it certainly is not a warmth i can feel.

Standing in front of her, I'm more than stripped naked, dissipating outward-in, and the dissipation only stresses the sense that I'm entirely present there. What gathers me and keeps me whole, is a dense will to be me; actually, not even that - only a certain longing to be. Instead of emotion, I feel a hank of smoke, stirring and spilling in the hardest shades of grey. The smoke is that same thing which encompasses us from without... I can never hold my focus; the whole scene vanishes, without a flash or interruption, going back inside, slow and inevitable, maybe a bit oozy and soft, like a snail going back to its house. But what is left of me, with no sight, hearing or numbing legs, doesn't want to go back home; in a fragment of a thought I'm gone to Jupiter, watching its storms and the most beautiful moons that circle the Sun; I ponder nothing, reflect nothing, have no remembrance; all I feel is a powerful and growing fear of the space I'm in, hundreds of thousands of leagues away from firm ground, left to the mercy of fire and electric power, with a fear that doesn't go away, 'cause there is no body to spend it...

I think we should attack eChina...