​ Noble Achilles And The Back Of A Turtle

2024 Author: Harry Day | [email protected]. Last modified: 2023-12-17 15:43

Noble Achilles and the back of a tortoise.

You are far away now, you cannot see yourself from there, you cannot hear your sounds and there is no sense of smells, there is no appearance and name, there is no shadow, there is no doubt. The key taps the finger monotonously, the heart beats monotonously, dying at the moments of willful attraction, a molten cauldron hums in the distance, evening is approaching. How many years have you been walking along this road to nowhere without changing your tracks, without dropping a crumb after you, the black crow cannot find you down, how many days have you spent on the way standing still, looking at the changing pictures of the myriad of stars floating in infinity behind your back how much longer are you going to live by feeding on the teachings of the students who have not reached the blackboard. Do not answer, do not worry, all the answers are already in your hands, just look at them, the runes have been covered with texts all your life, you cannot wipe them out or wash them off, although to whom I am saying all this, you already know everything, because you have never I read from my hands, did not feed the morning from them, did not sculpt the day, did not calm the evening, and did not forgive the night, did not apply them to my face and did not drink the wisdom of the time from them, did not fill myself with generous offerings of words carved on the bends of your trembling palms … One day, you will meet yourself on the way. And you will push away this hateful image that stood on your way on a perfectly invented day. Perhaps, you will rush past this monument of plastic culture, rustling with a bag of air and the edge of your eyelashes, you will drop a spark, feeling a fire of shame on your back. Undoubtedly, you will want to believe that all this was not and is not, that this fatigue in the joints, this is just a dream of an acrobat under the dome of a circus, you will squeeze your eyelids tightly, whisper the magic name quietly under your tongue and breathe deeply, like that who forgot to breathe, you will turn around in determination, and you will not see anything. Fuck. Disappointment from the come true longing for the lost inconsistency, again frightened away. How long have you seen yourself? What did you say to yourself before parting? Do you remember your name? Where you sent yourself then, you are not now. You are still on your way. And you wait at the station, meeting and seeing off trains, checking the timetable, studying visitors, merging with the rumble of vibrations. It seems that you have forgotten yourself here, right here, in the midst of this endless space, empty, ringing with silence, invisible just like you, merged with your sorrow, forgotten, abandoned, sent into eternal expectation of yourself. And you? What's the matter with you now? You're still alive? They say that someone saw you walking on a compass with a worn-out map in your pants pocket, they say that you were in a hurry to go somewhere for some unknown reason, someone saw the words escaping from your lips, but they could not hear anything, only the gnashing of hurrying teeth, running eyes and restless hands clearing the way forward, throwing back the thickets of meanings, aromas and new trends, shielding the eyes with dusty palms from phantoms of themselves, here and there, emerging from nowhere, calling back to the house, to sit at the table, warm up, exhale. You are standing blind, looking into the sun, burning out words on your retina that you have not bothered to read, you are standing behind your back, on the way, walking in place like a noble Achilles from Zeno's aporia, unable to catch up with the turtle of slowly creeping time, you two run over the horizon, one from the shadow, the other - after the shadow. If you meet at the edge of the world, then you will crush each other and will not be able to make way for the oncoming person without recognizing yourself in it, and you will fall into the abyss of the impossibility of self-knowledge.