Волхв

Chapter 8

           Thestickprojected,waitingformyfeettojerkdown.Theairwasverysilent.ManymilesawayIheardthesirenoftheAthensboat,approachingtheisland.Butitwaslikesomethingoutsideavacuum.Deathwasnow.

           Ididnothing.Iwaited.Theafterglow,thepalestyellow,thenaluminouspalegreen,thenalimpidstained-glassblue,heldintheskyovertheseaofmountainstothewest.Iwaited,Iwaited,Iheardthesirencloser,Iwaitedforthewill,theblackmoment,tocometoraisemyfeetandkickdown,andIcouldnot.AllthetimeIfeltIwasbeingwatched,thatIwasnotalone,thatIwasputtingonanactforthebenefitofsomeone,thatthisactioncouldbedoneonlyifitwasspontaneous,pure,isolatedandmoral.BecausemoreandmoreitcreptthroughmymindwiththechillspringnightthatIwastryingtocommitnotamoralaction,butafundamentallyaestheticone;todosomethingthatwouldendmylifesensationally,significantly,consistently.ItwasaMercutiodeathIwaslookingfor,notarealone.Adeathtoberemembered,notthetruedeathofatruesuicide,thedeathobliterate.

           Andthevoice;thelight;thesky.

           Itbegantogrowdark,thesirenoftherecedingAthensboatsounded,andIstillsatsmoking,withthegunbymyside.Ire-evaluatedmyself.IsawthatIwasfromnowon,forever,contemptible.Ihadbeen,andremained,intenselydepressed,butIhadalsobeen,andalwayswouldbe,intenselyfalse;inexistentialistterms,unauthentic

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