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21-11-2015 Elton Ivan

Immortal sunset

 

It was like the sun showed itself and, reaching the edge of the Earth, stopped and was remaining at one point motionless.

“Look,” Kolyan said. “It’s immortal sunset.”

They went along and stopped on the square. They were all like pawns on the chessboard, with some differences. There was a lot of them, much more than those who stuck in the static world. It was worth the eye of a painter.

Kolyan seated himself high, on the statue of V.I. Lenin. He held a bottle of vodka. Many things were parallel; many like sparkles of nothingness, for him, for everyone else. He was like a molecule of Absolute.

“Hey!” it was a powerful shout of Jacob, a king of beggars. “What are you doing there, bastard?”

“Hush! Never cry! It’s the immortal sunset! You have to except it with dignity! It’s forever now. Go to crowds. Be a part of it, feel the state of statics. There will be nothing, never again. It’s the immortal sunset, Jacob.

Jacob came to the square where crowds were swarming. Many of people who came here felt something like common confusion as nothing was said from TV, and the TV was silent as ice and numb as iced wood. The slope of sky was blue, a strange childish eye, thin skinned, one part a telescope to the space, another maybe a microscope to hell.

Voices.

Mixture of external and internal, emotions and reflections.

Jacob lit his only cigarette, kept on contemplating Kolyan who sat on the same place, with his bottle, with the palm of ancient stoned tyrant touching him. Why he lived? Now, everything had no clear contours. The times was like a butter on a bread, but whose mouth was eating it?

“I know that guy,” said someone.

“Is he a messiah?”

“Looks like that.”

“I haven’t seen him before. But…”

“You can’t take it with you…”

“Fool. Time stopped. There will be nothing till the end of time.”

“How it comes?”

“What?”

“The end of time? If the time is dead?”

“I can’t tell it.”

“What about cops?”

“What if the death is cancelled?”

“The death is not cancelled,” Jacob said. “It is your master, you fool. If nobody will kill you, you are the immortal man”

“Who are you?”

“Aside from that,” he chuckled, “it will be a new world, full of happiness and booze.”

 

He walked along until the crowds were like meeting of ants, with their unexpected leader on the top of the monument.

The sun.

Yes, it was like nailed, with languishing red and streaked with other spectra. No subject in the whole world had this property. Someone made his way to a button, some ephemeral remote control, to change the laws of nature, repeal the laws of physics to come up with something of his own. Who it was?

Jacob entered the shop where were no assistances. Strong rows of white conceptions. A theme, as immortal as the new conditions of reality.

One, two, three. Snacks. One who believed will be awarded.

Jacob looked down the hill. Nothing changed, but Kolyan got some social weight to lead the crowd, rather, to keep it unmoving.

“What’s the use of the Christ now?” said Jacob.

He unscrewed the bottle, sat comfortably. Ahead was an eternity. The bright eye of space threw its warmth down making the new binge session charming.

“Hello, sparrows!”

They tweeted in response.

“Do you want it? I know, it’s dangerous for birds but it doesn’t make sense. We’ll go together, away from here, maybe towards the Distillery. Help yourself, little birds.”

 


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