"Nikoga i ništa nemojte moliti! Nikada i ništa, i posebno ne one koji su jači od vas. Sami će predložiti i sami će sve dati." (Bulgakov, Majstor i Margarita)

"Kdo se táže, stojí sám."

 

once, long time ago, in the town of cats
I had to ask the biggest cat in the castle of cats
for a favour
it didn't go very well
I tried to read the frown on his face
he often had it
decades later I realized it was disgust
it wasn't about me not being good enough
it was about me being a different kind

structures kill revolutions
there's some local flavour to our way of doing it
but it's basically same everywhere
conservatives do it by excluding, marginalizing, starving
liberals do it by including, accepting, spoiling

we were on the beach
several families with kids
it was a pebble beach
I had some marker pens
and I drew these small drawings on pebbles
figurative, simple, black lines on white stones
the final act that really gave them life
was to throw them far into the sea

purpose of these stories is to get in touch with the invisible
communicate with the other

the story is about an experience
that happened very recently
only five or ten years ago
I still don't know what really happened
but it was a remarkable experience
new knowledge
new piece in the puzzle

stating the following might mean the exact opposite
yet, I would really like you to believe
that I am neither judging nor criticizing
and it is not about my vanity

I saw it few times
people couldn't stand it any more
being alone, far out, like ships without harbors
it's harsh and cold outside, winds blow and there are questions
many questions

you can hardly do it alone
you need soothing, warmth, love
if you don't have any
the usual substitutes will do
church, career, neighborhood, gang, nation, culture

suddenly you belong
you're no longer alone
walls protect you from north winds
windows are built in strictly defined positions

when my bookshop was dying
I went to the municipal hall
explained the problem and presented an idea
they said yes
and we moved the bookshop to an unused corner of a city sponsored art gallery

on a first glance it seemed like a light at the end of a tunnel
no rent to pay
no electricity bills
free access to net and sanitations
nothing to worry about

of course, it was only prolonging the inevitable
la morte lenta

the dragon had four heads
it was impossible to save the bookstore by simply cutting its expanses

I thought
here I am with art-people
they are my kind of people
together we'll ask some difficult questions
together we'll look for valid answers
we'll maybe even morph the existing bookshop into something else and new
perhaps more useful to everyone involved

I came as a bookseller
they had no reason to be afraid
yet, the funny thing started to happen

whenever I approached them
ideas, projects, proposals, emails, calls, coffees
they were all so nice and friendly
albeit, somehow they were not really there
like holograms or zombies in disguise

in the end
the only thing they let me do
was sweep the floors

it took me a year
to realize the depth of this abyss

the problem posed by
conjunction of polite ignorance and an invisible ficus tree
proved to be unsolvable

yet, I am really thankful for the experience
it confirmed my past decisions
and still helps me to orientate today

whatever has taken place of art
inside its institutions
is something rather soft and spongy
like that fractal Menger thing
it fills the space and it is empty
both at the same time

like jellyfish
it is impossible to grasp
once left in sunlight
it will disappear

 

 

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