Fabrizio Ulivieri's Blog, page 96

Alvaro’s secret life

It was a bright cold day in December, and the snow was swirling around Lukiškių aikštė. Alvaro R., snuggled up into his ample coat in an effort to escape the freezing wind, slipped quickly through the glass doors of Vero Café, though not quickly enough to prevent a swirl of iced snow from entering along with him, and left behind that glass partition the-already -3.30 pm-darkening-city-of-Vilnius.
Alvaro had a varicose ulcer above his right ankle, had gone all the way slowly, resting several times on the
way. Now he had pain in his whole leg. He was nervous.
He looked around. She wasn’t there. He got a date with her but she wasn’t there. He was disappointed. That young girl was going to make him go crazy. He knew it.
On each place where he went, he saw her round and hard buttocks. It had become an obsession that made him so furious. His heart was beating fast, he sweated and was short of breath: under that agency, he felt her eyes follow him about wherever he moved
He looked back, looked at the entrance. The world outside was cold and frozen. She was not there. She wouldn‘t come. It was clear.
You broke my heart. He murmered, You merely broke my life. But it won’t be forever. You’ll be mine. I will die but you will be mine. Said watchin towards that frozen world outsidet the big glass partition.
There seemed to be no colour in anything, except in his despair. He clearly perceived that he was bowing down but he knew that he did not bow down to that little girl, he bowed down to all the suffering of humanity. He had to find the courage and break that spell and do what he needed to be finally fred by that spell. And for the same reason he needed somewhere to turn. But how to turn and and being able to cover himself, in a world where also a back could be revealing?
He tried to remember. He tried to recall some memories of that morning.
Are you always at home alone? Your sister or your mother is not with you in the morning? He had asked her.
Why, do you ask? She had replied.
Nothing, I just asked. I thought of you alone at home. He answered her as casually as he could.
After leaving her home he had realized he was completely in confusion.

He left the bar and walked back like a drunken man.
What am I doing? What am I doing? He was repeating to himself. How such horrible things come into my head?
Was that just a physical derangement or something more?

die Tage, in denen wir leben

 

Wir hören immer das Gleich, da die Zeiten durchlässig und flüssig sind. Wir zu erwidern zögern aus der Menschtiefen heraus. Aber wir wissen es. Wir wissen, daß ein spöttisches Achselzucken, ein einfaches Wegwenden, nicht mehr möglich ist.

Die Fragen haben unterwegs ihren Sinn verloren. Es ist Zeit, zu bekämpfen.

Wir lassen uns nicht zurückfallen, an den vorherigen Tagen, die, nicht mehr so deutlich zu uns sprechen. Es ist Zeit, zu bekämpfen oder sterben.

The ring many years later in the memories of a former Kincora boy

Thank you. Thank you for that. He said with his still suffering big boy eyes.In 1975 the young army intelligence officer, who now was sitting in front of him old and fat like a pig was working undercover and trying to blow the whistle. They met both for the first time at the officer house in Belfast after 30 years that that happened.You must be Robert. Said the officer when opened the door. I am Anthony, It's good to meet you, Robert. Come on in, let's talk.
I was reporting all the facts, but I was ordered to stop digging and forget all it about. My fault. Anthony. And that's the thing that still hits me. If I had really the thing pushed through in 75/76, you could be rescued. I am sorry, Anthony. I didn't have the force and the courage to do it.That was when Anthony made a big effort to say: Thank you. Thank you for that. It was a big effort. He felt completely empty and delude. But was able to be civil. He realized that that bloke in front of him was really sorry. Uh, I had been in a lot of pain for ages. It's atrocious suffering. I have survival guilt. It's a calling. I believe it's a calling and...I am not here to think of me, right. I get peace from that, you know. Concluded Robert.I know, added Anthony.They prayed to God together. They both believed in Almighty. After the pray the journalist who had brought back Robert from USA to Belfast asked Anthony: Do you think there is still efforts to try and cover up?I do believe. Replied Anthony flatly smiling. 
For years Robert had known when he was a boy that he was paid for sex, and it was the only life he knew. A male prostitute. Was I a male prostitute? He answered the journalist who was asking. I would put this way. I didn't become what they made me to be. I had no awareness that I would be that, that I would be. They shaped me grimy. That's what my life was.He had decided to speak out now because his two friends trafficked with him were no longer alive to tell their tales.It's about the voices that didn't have a voice any more that I am.. It's my spirit that is driving me because we can't fail on this. We just can't fail on this. I still hope in Justice.

The days of the plague

There is a creative and loving force inside most of us that guides us through life. These people don’t have this. For them it’s the opposite. 

(Mel Gibson)

In those Days I had to find a religion to measure my evil against. Evil has already gotten a strong tinge of cruelty. God was dead, Church was dead. The major part of us was so frail in front of such a fraud.
I used to write science-fiction novels. I stopped in those days. Reality was more interesting than science-fiction.

I couldn’t any more write a book. I did not know how to plot a story, any longer. I was quiet, too quiet. I was thrilled, too thrilled. I was in a quagmire. I was dying in it.
I was pervasive. I was everywhere. Was I alive? I thought so. I was not dead, ergo I was alive. That was the masterpiece of my life... A masterpiece of resonance.
I was going around on a new battlefield. A Purgatory which was worse than the Hell. But it was bliss in the end. It was bliss even though I didn't believe in Heaven.

What times were we living? Were those the times of a New Church, of a New Order? Were those times those of Satan? Everywhere I saw symbols of Satan. We were surrounded by Satan and Satanists. Where was the Pope? Where was the Protector of Christianity? God was dead, Church was dead, there was no Pope. In the Vaticano was now sitting a traitor, an apostate, an Antichrist.  A Satan emanation. A hologram.

Hell was empty all the devils were here. The children of darkness had decided to show their cards and an infernal deception would be revealed.
We were living in a regime, an ancient regime. It was clear. THEY have stopped lying THEY have started to show their real face, Their real goals. We were living in the middle of one of the biggest conspiracies that have ever been perpetrated on humanity…
they came from the Babylon times, THEy were called the Structure, THAT ruled the world.

It had started many centuries before Babylon, when aliens came from other planets and created a race of slaves. US.
But I could not say this. Censorship was watching us. As I watched her sleeping. We were sleeping animals. We slept the sleep they wanted us to sleep. They didn't want us awake. As I didn't want her awake. She was so perfectly beautiful while sleeping. We were so perfectly beautiful until we were a perfect example of domestication.

I now close my eyes and see how we were before the nightmare fell down on us. When the mornings sounded like mornings and the nights brought the rest we needed.
She has tried to resist more than me. She has tried to keep her days busy and me awake.
She has been stronger than me. I sought solace in her to resist. I cleared my fears using her resistance.

Did your husband call you?
No, why do you ask?
I dunno. It just came to my mind, right now.
What?
That he could have called you.
What a strange thought.
Are strange times.
Yes, they are.

Then we heard someone knocking on the door.
Your mother? I asked.
No. It's not her knock.

She got up and went to the door. The door opened.
I saw the yellow striped gilets of the policija, du policininkai
Ieškome rašytojo. They said.
Aš esu, I responded from the chair where I was sitting.
Tu irgi, Said the policeman to her.
I startled. I put down a copy of The Quiet American by Graham Greene, I was reading.
Dėl ko? I asked.
Nežinau. Answered one of them. Turite eiti su mumis.

Listen, this is very serious. The tyrėja spoke well English. I glanced at her. I noticed she had a copy of Valdovas (The Prince) on his desk. It was strange. A policeman was reading Machiavelli? I didn't dare ask why she was interested in such a book.

It's a pity that I cannot read in Italian. She interposed. She had caught my reaction.
Why do you read Il Principe? I asked lastly.
Does it say so, in Italian?
Yes, Il Principe, Valdovas.
How nice it sounds in Italian. What a beautiful language is your language! She said fervently.
Do you think?
Yes, I think so...by the way... was Alvaro. your friend? She shot abruptly.
Oh,...I see, I understand why I am here. Is this the reason?
It can be.
Not a friend, to be honest. A person, I met to chat with. Sometimes. That's all.
What were you talking about?
Life, God, politics...nonsense...
And you? O jūs?
Why do you ask her? Alvaro was possibly my friend, not hers.
Porą kartų su juo susitikau, bet jis nebuvo mano draugas.
When did you meet him last time? She addressed me, this time,
I dunno...difficult to say. Two months ago, maybe. Before all this absurdity started.
Which absurdity? She asked me vaguely.
The plague.
Is it an absurdity for you?
Of course.
So, you don't agree with the measures for the quarantine?
No.
Interesting.
O jūs?
Aš irgi. She replied.
Įdomu, labai įdomu. A perfect couple The tyrėja concluded.
We love each other, we understand each other. That's normal.
Supratau, I understand. Do you respect our quarantine?
Of course. I don't agree with it but I respect it. I am a guest in this land. I have never contested your laws, your rules, your politics. Your country welcomed me, it gave me a place where to live, I am grateful to Lithuania.
It sounds like you are a political refugee.
Sort of.
Sort of?
Yes. I felt forced to leave my country. I had to, finally.
Why?
Hard to explain...but I felt like I was apart from that country, It had become an incomprehensible place for me. The skyline had changed, it was unrecognizable. Extraneous bodies had penetrated the social tissue. A corrupted casta is ruling it. I grew up in a different country, and when I left my country it was not the place I hoped for when I was a boy.
And why did you come to Lithuania?
For love. And I watched her.
The tyrėja stopped. Right, she said. Of course...Do you know what Alvaro did?
Yes, I know. I read it. I was surprised.
Surprised?

From outside, beyond the window, we heard somebody yelling.
What's happening? I asked.
Today we arrested some people that were protesting in front of the Seima.
Really?
They adverse the lockdown...Sorry, I see that I am disappointing you.
What makes you believe that?
Your face. It looks like...They broke the law. What do you think? We are the police. What are we supposed to do?
What you did, I suppose.
Yes, That's what we have to do. Before, you said surprised. What do you mean with surprised?
What I mean with surprised? Try to imagine someone who, when he speaks, speaks as if he should speak in the face of God. Someone who is in constant dialogue with a truth that could be assimilated to a God. That was Alvaro. He seemed to lack of every form of imperious Self. But instead, it seems now that he was obsessed by his imperious Self...
Imperious Self?
It is psychic energy, harmful to the human being. It comes from the deep unconscious and goes back to consciousness and annihilates it. It does away with any ethical value that we believed right and just. It expresses itself in the form of violent, uncontrollable, and wild impulses and pushes us to think only of ourselves of our own pleasure. It can be the hell when you are not capable to harness it. And maybe Alvaro wasn't.

I see, that you are a writer. She laughed.
Do you laugh?
Yes, of course. You surprised me.
Is that a valid reason to laugh?... Let me insist on this point...ethical principles are like cover stories.
What do you mean?
They let see you the dog in front of you, they scare you about the potential damage that that dog can do to you if it jumps on you, but they don' let you see the tiger which is behind you. Or I should say inside you...they don't let see you the big beast which is inside you. Is it clear now?
Hhhhmmm....interesting.
I became suspicious. Strangely, the officer seemed to have no aversion towards me.

I looked cautiously at her, for she had touched my leg with her knee.
Don't trust this official. I read her look.

I knew that look, that light in her eyes. I knew the message. Don't trust! Trust me and not that woman. I am your truth.
I thought it was time to take her away from that place. But the face of the police officer seemed to say the contrary.
Was Alvaro a paedophile? Asked the police officer.
I dunno. I know what I read. When he spoke to me, I never realized that hypothesis as possible.
Big problem paedophilia, a globalised problem. It's everywhere. And wherever there is power there is paedophilia, it seems a perversion that hits mostly the ruling classes. Rich people and politicians.
Do you think? How do you know that?
I sighed.
Do you remember that movie, Three Days of the Condor?
...Not really. What's about?
A complicated story. Anyway, I will try to make it shorter. The CIA is after Condor to kill him. Condor is a bookish CIA analyst, code-named "Condor". He works at the American Literary Historical Society in New York City, which is a clandestine CIA office. But there is a game inside the Agency and one day CIA agents murder the Condor's colleagues in the office while Condor is out for lunch. CIA will try many times to kill him with every means but he predicts every CIA move and cannot be caught. Who the hell is Condor? What he did do in the Agency? Asks one of the Company. Condor reads, it is the answer.

Oh I see...that's why...you read.

I write books. I am one of the fewest writers who read books...I read tons of books.

I watched her. I realized she was suffering. I felt like in Graham Greene's book, The Quiet American. "I was ready to answer any question if could bring the interview quickly and ambiguously to an end, so that I might tell her later, in private, away from a policeman's eyes and the hard office chairs".

What do you want to know more? I said to the police officer.

Do you believe that he committed suicide while in prison?

Should I doubt? I have not any other evidence...

I hoped that you could give us more information. It seems that you can't.
Yes, I can't.
And I was still repeating that while leaving the police building and finally breathing fresh air.
Put on the mask, they will fine you. She said to me. I don't want to see that face any more. She added.
We took along Gedimino Prospektas towards the Cathedral.
The sun was illuminating our faces and we breathed hope again.

But that avenue was without dignity. It stank of death, and rotting acceptance, of a dying civilization. Our conscience of human beings was taken away and hushed up by a new sense of inhumanity.

But that avenue was without dignity. It stank of death and rotting acceptance, of dying civilization. Our conscience of human beings was taken away and hushed up by a new sense of inhumanity. 
But she appeared immune to all that, as one can be immune to a virus. She floated in the new reality like she had floated in the past one. 
Do you mind stopping here? I need an espresso. I asked. We had gotten the traffic lights where Lukiškių aikštė ends. There was a small bar, a sort of garden shed bar with outdoor tables, where to buy good coffee. I thought that we could sit there and take off our masks, drink coffee and for a while delude ourselves in the sunlight. Like before.
People here are getting tired. They began to sue the government. Some opposition politicians finally begin to speak out. She shot plainly.
I think you need, you all, you need to support these politicians. The interests of ordinary people like you and me can meet for a while their interests and vice-versa. You can walk together for a while. If they feel supported by people if they see consensus grow around them they can dare more. I insisted.
People were passing by. Old people, young boys, beautiful girls, mothers with their little children. Workers... We were sitting down in that corner of the square and we felt as alive as possible when the day that you feel the world is falling apart has come.
Silly, I smiled.
You laugh?
Yes.
Why?
I can no longer distinguish between reality and lies.
Tikrai?
Taip. Mūsų pasaulis miręs. I said. But I was grasped by the heavy thought of somebody who has altered the whole course of his life.
I had a great sadness that day on earth. I felt censored and displaced.

We were not far from the Lukiškių Kalėijimas and I thought of Alvaro. I started imagining that bestial impulse. It had certainly been bestial. Unstoppable. Impossible to bridle.
There is a side of the human being which is a pure beast. A man knows that side only when the fury fulfils the moment which is impossible to escape. And he knows it only after the act has been released, only after the act is out of him.
The same moment he spots the reason for the act, he realizes that the act has removed the reason.
That act has come from a side completely unknown, a bestial side. A side he had never experienced before.
I imagined it like a burst of an explosion, an overflood of evil and alien energy, which possessed him, like a fit, a seizure of daemons.
I started wondering if he had any chance to be excused for his violence.
Why was I asking myself that? Wasn't immoral to find a way to justify rape?
I had no idea. Maybe a man's grief is brother to anyone's grief.
It had to be this the reason... 
In this sense he and the victim were alike.
Paradoxically, I was creating empathy towards the executioner rather than the victim.
But was he at least aware of his crime? Most of the insane acts are said to have been committed consciously.
I believe, that only after ejaculation he experienced the depth of the abyss. In the very moment of that devilish seizure, he was unconscious.

When he caught the girl by her full, hard and fleshy buttocks he finally felt the pleasure of the beast inside satisfied by that embrace, he had desired for so long, For many days, weeks, and many months. He forgot everything about the world, he was absurdly lost at the centre of that iron grip, et vertatur in belvam.
He was 58 and she was 13. She had the body of a woman and the mind of a child. He possessed a woman but insulted and sullied a kid. Forever.
The day of atonement for his crime he knew would come. And it was bought to him by circumstances. The arrest, the sentence, the prison ... a life transfigured by a moment of uncontrolled madness, whose origin laid in two overly full and hard buttocks of a little girl who was already a woman.

And his life ended hanging from the bars of the cell, dangling from a belt stolen somewhere in the prison infirmary.
There are secrets which can’t be told. Secrets you don’t even permit yourself to be revealed to yourself. Now and then the conscience of a man can be trapped in a burden of heavy craziness. And it becomes unspeakable, the unrestrained power and the reason for that folly. 
The death of Alvaro in prison, in the Lukiškių Kalėijimas, had been so unexpected.
The last days of his life I thought he had time to rethink about that flame igniting his tragedy, like a long needle between his legs.
He had been kept in a dungeon in the underground. It was a clear message that his existence had to be cancelled from the visible world. And he knew that it was true.

 

Pedophilia

There is a creative and loving force inside most of us that guides us through life. These people don’t have this. For them it’s the opposite. 

(Mel Gibson)

In those Days I had to find a religion to measure my evil against. Evil has already gotten a strong tinge of cruelty. God was dead, Church was dead. The major part of us was so frail in front of such a fraud.
I used to write science-fiction novels. I stopped in those days. Reality was more interesting than science-fiction.

I couldn’t any more write a book. I did not know how to plot a story, any longer. I was quiet, too quiet. I was thrilled, too thrilled. I was in a quagmire. I was dying in it.
I was pervasive. I was everywhere. Was I alive? I thought so. I was not dead, ergo I was alive. That was the masterpiece of my life... A masterpiece of resonance.
I was going around on a new battlefield. A Purgatory which was worse than the Hell. But it was bliss in the end. It was bliss even though I didn't believe in Heaven.

What times were we living? Were those the times of a New Church, of a New Order? Were those times those of Satan? Everywhere I saw symbols of Satan. We were surrounded by Satan and Satanists. Where was the Pope? Where was the Protector of Christianity? God was dead, Church was dead, there was no Pope. In the Vaticano was now sitting a traitor, an apostate, an Antichrist.  A Satan emanation. A hologram.

Hell was empty all the devils were here. The children of darkness had decided to show their cards and an infernal deception would be revealed.
We were living in a regime, an ancient regime. It was clear. THEY have stopped lying THEY have started to show their real face, Their real goals. We were living in the middle of one of the biggest conspiracies that have ever been perpetrated on humanity…
they came from the Babylon times, THEy were called the Structure, THAT ruled the world.

It had started many centuries before Babylon, when aliens came from other planets and created a race of slaves. US.
But I could not say this. Censorship was watching us. As I watched her sleeping. We were sleeping animals. We slept the sleep they wanted us to sleep. They didn't want us awake. As I didn't want her awake. She was so perfectly beautiful while sleeping. We were so perfectly beautiful until we were a perfect example of domestication.

I now close my eyes and see how we were before the nightmare fell down on us. When the mornings sounded like mornings and the nights brought the rest we needed.
She has tried to resist more than me. She has tried to keep her days busy and me awake.
She has been stronger than me. I sought solace in her to resist. I cleared my fears using her resistance.

Did your husband call you?
No, why do you ask?
I dunno. It just came to my mind, right now.
What?
That he could have called you.
What a strange thought.
Are strange times.
Yes, they are.

Then we heard someone knocking on the door.
Your mother? I asked.
No. It's not her knock.

She got up and went to the door. The door opened.
I saw the yellow striped gilets of the policija, du policininkai
Ieškome rašytojo. They said.
Aš esu, I responded from the chair where I was sitting.
Tu irgi, Said the policeman to her.
I startled. I put down a copy of The Quiet American by Graham Greene, I was reading.
Dėl ko? I asked.
Nežinau. Answered one of them. Turite eiti su mumis.

Listen, this is very serious. The tyrėja spoke well English. I glanced at her. I noticed she had a copy of Valdovas (The Prince) on his desk. It was strange. A policeman was reading Machiavelli? I didn't dare ask why she was interested in such a book.

It's a pity that I cannot read in Italian. She interposed. She had caught my reaction.
Why do you read Il Principe? I asked lastly.
Does it say so, in Italian?
Yes, Il Principe, Valdovas.
How nice it sounds in Italian. What a beautiful language is your language! She said fervently.
Do you think?
Yes, I think so...by the way... was Alvaro. your friend? She shot abruptly.
Oh,...I see, I understand why I am here. Is this the reason?
It can be.
Not a friend, to be honest. A person, I met to chat with. Sometimes. That's all.
What were you talking about?
Life, God, politics...nonsense...
And you? O jūs?
Why do you ask her? Alvaro was possibly my friend, not hers.
Porą kartų su juo susitikau, bet jis nebuvo mano draugas.
When did you meet him last time? She addressed me, this time,
I dunno...difficult to say. Two months ago, maybe. Before all this absurdity started.
Which absurdity? She asked me vaguely.
The plague.
Is it an absurdity for you?
Of course.
So, you don't agree with the measures for the quarantine?
No.
Interesting.
O jūs?
Aš irgi. She replied.
Įdomu, labai įdomu. A perfect couple The tyrėja concluded.
We love each other, we understand each other. That's normal.
Supratau, I understand. Do you respect our quarantine?
Of course. I don't agree with it but I respect it. I am a guest in this land. I have never contested your laws, your rules, your politics. Your country welcomed me, it gave me a place where to live, I am grateful to Lithuania.
It sounds like you are a political refugee.
Sort of.
Sort of?
Yes. I felt forced to leave my country. I had to, finally.
Why?
Hard to explain...but I felt like I was apart from that country, It had become an incomprehensible place for me. The skyline had changed, it was unrecognizable. Extraneous bodies had penetrated the social tissue. A corrupted casta is ruling it. I grew up in a different country, and when I left my country it was not the place I hoped for when I was a boy.
And why did you come to Lithuania?
For love. And I watched her.
The tyrėja stopped. Right, she said. Of course...Do you know what Alvaro did?
Yes, I know. I read it. I was surprised.
Surprised?

From outside, beyond the window, we heard somebody yelling.
What's happening? I asked.
Today we arrested some people that were protesting in front of the Seima.
Really?
They adverse the lockdown...Sorry, I see that I am disappointing you.
What makes you believe that?
Your face. It looks like...They broke the law. What do you think? We are the police. What are we supposed to do?
What you did, I suppose.
Yes, That's what we have to do. Before, you said surprised. What do you mean with surprised?
What I mean with surprised? Try to imagine someone who, when he speaks, speaks as if he should speak in the face of God. Someone who is in constant dialogue with a truth that could be assimilated to a God. That was Alvaro. He seemed to lack of every form of imperious Self. But instead, it seems now that he was obsessed by his imperious Self...
Imperious Self?
It is psychic energy, harmful to the human being. It comes from the deep unconscious and goes back to consciousness and annihilates it. It does away with any ethical value that we believed right and just. It expresses itself in the form of violent, uncontrollable, and wild impulses and pushes us to think only of ourselves of our own pleasure. It can be the hell when you are not capable to harness it. And maybe Alvaro wasn't.

I see, that you are a writer. She laughed.
Do you laugh?
Yes, of course. You surprised me.
Is that a valid reason to laugh?... Let me insist on this point...ethical principles are like cover stories.
What do you mean?
They let see you the dog in front of you, they scare you about the potential damage that that dog can do to you if it jumps on you, but they don' let you see the tiger which is behind you. Or I should say inside you...they don't let see you the big beast which is inside you. Is it clear now?
Hhhhmmm....interesting.
I became suspicious. Strangely, the officer seemed to have no aversion towards me.

I looked cautiously at her, for she had touched my leg with her knee.
Don't trust this official. I read her look.

I knew that look, that light in her eyes. I knew the message. Don't trust! Trust me and not that woman. I am your truth.
I thought it was time to take her away from that place. But the face of the police officer seemed to say the contrary.
Was Alvaro a paedophile? Asked the police officer.
I dunno. I know what I read. When he spoke to me, I never realized that hypothesis as possible.
Big problem paedophilia, a globalised problem. It's everywhere. And wherever there is power there is paedophilia, it seems a perversion that hits mostly the ruling classes. Rich people and politicians.
Do you think? How do you know that?
I sighed.
Do you remember that movie, Three Days of the Condor?
...Not really. What's about?
A complicated story. Anyway, I will try to make it shorter. The CIA is after Condor to kill him. Condor is a bookish CIA analyst, code-named "Condor". He works at the American Literary Historical Society in New York City, which is a clandestine CIA office. But there is a game inside the Agency and one day CIA agents murder the Condor's colleagues in the office while Condor is out for lunch. CIA will try many times to kill him with every means but he predicts every CIA move and cannot be caught. Who the hell is Condor? What he did do in the Agency? Asks one of the Company. Condor reads, it is the answer.

Oh I see...that's why...you read.

I write books. I am one of the fewest writers who read books...I read tons of books.

I watched her. I realized she was suffering. I felt like in Graham Greene's book, The Quiet American. "I was ready to answer any question if could bring the interview quickly and ambiguously to an end, so that I might tell her later, in private, away from a policeman's eyes and the hard office chairs".

What do you want to know more? I said to the police officer.

Do you believe that he committed suicide while in prison?

Should I doubt? I have not any other evidence...

I hoped that you could give us more information. It seems that you can't.
Yes, I can't.
And I was still repeating that while leaving the police building and finally breathing fresh air.
Put on the mask, they will fine you. She said to me. I don't want to see that face any more. She added.
We took along Gedimino Prospektas towards the Cathedral.
The sun was illuminating our faces and we breathed hope again.

But that avenue was without dignity. It stank of death, and rotting acceptance, of a dying civilization. Our conscience of human beings was taken away and hushed up by a new sense of inhumanity.

But that avenue was without dignity. It stank of death and rotting acceptance, of dying civilization. Our conscience of human beings was taken away and hushed up by a new sense of inhumanity. 
But she appeared immune to all that, as one can be immune to a virus. She floated in the new reality like she had floated in the past one. 
Do you mind stopping here? I need an espresso. I asked. We had gotten the traffic lights where Lukiškių aikštė ends. There was a small bar, a sort of garden shed bar with outdoor tables, where to buy good coffee. I thought that we could sit there and take off our masks, drink coffee and for a while delude ourselves in the sunlight. Like before.
People here are getting tired. They began to sue the government. Some opposition politicians finally begin to speak out. She shot plainly.
I think you need, you all, you need to support these politicians. The interests of ordinary people like you and me can meet for a while their interests and vice-versa. You can walk together for a while. If they feel supported by people if they see consensus grow around them they can dare more. I insisted.
People were passing by. Old people, young boys, beautiful girls, mothers with their little children. Workers... We were sitting down in that corner of the square and we felt as alive as possible when the day that you feel the world is falling apart has come.
Silly, I smiled.
You laugh?
Yes.
Why?
I can no longer distinguish between reality and lies.
Tikrai?
Taip. Mūsų pasaulis miręs. I said. But I was grasped by the heavy thought of somebody who has altered the whole course of his life.
I had a great sadness that day on earth. I felt censored and displaced.

We were not far from the Lukiškių Kalėijimas and I thought of Alvaro. I started imagining that bestial impulse. It had certainly been bestial. Unstoppable. Impossible to bridle.
There is a side of the human being which is a pure beast. A man knows that side only when the fury fulfils the moment which is impossible to escape. And he knows it only after the act has been released, only after the act is out of him.
The same moment he spots the reason for the act, he realizes that the act has removed the reason.
That act has come from a side completely unknown, a bestial side. A side he had never experienced before.
I imagined it like a burst of an explosion, an overflood of evil and alien energy, which possessed him, like a fit, a seizure of daemons.
I started wondering if he had any chance to be excused for his violence.
Why was I asking myself that? Wasn't immoral to find a way to justify rape?
I had no idea. Maybe a man's grief is brother to anyone's grief.
It had to be this the reason... 
In this sense he and the victim were alike.
Paradoxically, I was creating empathy towards the executioner rather than the victim.
But was he at least aware of his crime? Most of the insane acts are said to have been committed consciously.
I believe, that only after ejaculation he experienced the depth of the abyss. In the very moment of that devilish seizure, he was unconscious.

When he caught the girl by her full, hard and fleshy buttocks he finally felt the pleasure of the beast inside satisfied by that embrace, he had desired for so long, For many days, weeks, and many months. He forgot everything about the world, he was absurdly lost at the centre of that iron grip, et vertatur in belvam.
He was 58 and she was 13. She had the body of a woman and the mind of a child. He possessed a woman but insulted and sullied a kid. Forever.
The day of atonement for his crime he knew would come. And it was bought to him by circumstances. The arrest, the sentence, the prison ... a life transfigured by a moment of uncontrolled madness, whose origin laid in two overly full and hard buttocks of a little girl who was already a woman.

And his life ended hanging from the bars of the cell, dangling from a belt stolen somewhere in the prison infirmary.
There are secrets which can’t be told. Secrets you don’t even permit yourself to be revealed to yourself. Now and then the conscience of a man can be trapped in a burden of heavy craziness. And it becomes unspeakable, the unrestrained power and the reason for that folly. 
The death of Alvaro in prison, in the Lukiškių Kalėijimas, had been so unexpected.
The last days of his life I thought he had time to rethink about that flame igniting his tragedy, like a long needle between his legs.
He had been kept in a dungeon in the underground. It was a clear message that his existence had to be cancelled from the visible world. And he knew that it was true.

 

The Evil Leap to the Deep State (from The Plague We Live In)

Allen Dulles, Richard Helms, Carmel Offie and Frank Wisner were the grand masters. If you were in a room with them, you were in a room full of people that you had to believe would deservedly end up in hell. I guess I will see them there soon.” Perhaps.  (James Angleton - Associate Deputy Director of Operations for Counterintelligence)

Alvaro had chosen to live not far from the Seima, near Gedimino Prospektas. He lived in a two-floor-building. The apartment was quite big for one person. At the second floor, he had a large studio where he could work, mostly at night.
Behind the desk, there was an ample sofa where many nights he fell asleep.
The first time he talked to me about it, it was some days after our first meeting at Vero Cafè.
Why we believe what we believe? He said.
I beg your pardon but I don't understand what you mean. I responded.
We believe because we are told. He went on. We are told that a three is a three, a car is a car, red is red, an artichoke is an artichoke...by doing so, we develop a conscience of what we think, we see and believe. Many facts we believe as facts are just stories because facts are told through stories...and in the end, it becomes almost impossible to distinguish what happened from the way the thing is told, narrated. In other words, and in a classical standard, we are not in a position to clearly distinguish lies from truth, if any.I thought he was right, even though I had no idea he was talking about.What a question you put...Of course...maybe. We are told that...
Right! you said it. We are told that...He seemed inspired. He looked around like it was sensing something. Me too sensed what he sensed. Something that went through my nose as we were talking. Like a flux of trillions and trillions of particles. They went through my nose and they did nothing to me. They passed through all of the matter around us continuously in a huge, huge blast of particles that did nothing at all. Almost a separate universe.
Alvaro appeared to me as going through the blast, sucked away...
Have you heard of Allan Dulles? He repeated twice.Those words grabbed me and brought me back from the universe I had fallen into.Who was that?A master, a grand master of cheating. He was the guy who invented the CIA, the USA Deep State. The Deep State we live in nowadays. The puppeteer behind the J F Kennedy assassination. He was probably the first real Puppeteer of USA.
He did whatever he wanted to do, whether presidents knew or not. He created corruption in the political world in USA. Listen I will read you this, it is a passage that I've taken from a document: the national-security state justified a rule of secrecy in the name of plausible deniability to protect the president and its own officials from the rule of law and public opinion. Allen Dulles claimed he needed to do that to wage the Cold War. But when you create exceptions to the rule of law, you create an opening for corruption, violence, and political instability.I understand. I replied. But why you are so interested in these facts?
Because I search for the point, the moment when the narrative has started.

The Plague We Live in (Part 10)

It was early December. It had snowed between 3:00 and 5:00pm. At 3:30pm it was already dark.
I had left the gym, I had taken the bus 41. In front of the gym, there was a stotelė, a bus stop. I got off at Aguonų stotelė and walked along Kauno gatvę until I reached the intersection with Šopeno gatvė. It was snowing so hard that I needed shelter. I thought of a cafè not far away from where I was.
I was wrapped in a long coat and scarf because of the temperature and kept alerted my attention on where I had to put the feet along the sidewalk. The ice was insidious. It was easy to slip and end up lying on the ground, with the risk of breaking a leg or an arm. I was so absorbed in this exercise that I didn’t register the sounds of the darkening city around me. The whirring of the electric trolleybus running on the overhead wires, the cracking of ice under the tires of the cars, the bitterness of diesel fumes, the frozen gusts of a polar wind blowing against my face

When I entered the Cafè  s h e   was sitting close to the window. I darted her a glance and she smiled at me.
That smile let me know how to find a new meaning of life within myself. The meaning that I had left out of my world until then.
Maybe I was a hopeless romantic but many times I had imagined a scene like that. A smile and an unconditional attraction. Rupture and awe, as if I were in front of an alien creature, who came out of a cloud that had hidden her before my eyes for a very long time.
The microchip implanted in my front started buzzing.

God created the first light, a cold light. A light that could be looked at without being blinded. Then He packed it as if it were a preserve and brought it into our world. “Let there be light,” and there was light. Then God said, “Let us make woman, and there was the woman”

I didn‘t remember where I had read those words but I read them somewhere. Those words couldn‘t get out of my mind, so spontaneously. Or maybe not. Sometimes, in reality, can happen many things you cannot explain or find a reason even though a reason must be.
Especially after thinking the same thought for a long time, for long days, weeks and months, it can really happen what you have just had in your thoughts.

But that was before. Before the plague. Many centuries ago. So far seemed that bygone existence. Now the existence of humanity was on the verge of extinction and was spinning down to the bottomless end of a black hole

Your parents died well. They cannot complain, they ended well. They had money, a lot of badanti taking care of them, you and your brother. They had all. Don't be sad. You did all you could.
She stared at me, through her half-closed eyes.
She paused. I breathed.
Here in Lithuania - she went on - they could be considered rich people. Many elderly in Lithuania struggle with poverty, solitude and depression...that was not the case with your parents.
But they saved the money, they deserved it - I replied.
Of course - she said - of course...I didn't mean that they didn't deserve it. I wanted to say that they had a good end, nothing more, and you don't have to feel guilty because you decided to leave them and to move to Lithuania. But remember, here the elderly rarely have the same chances your parents had in Italy...
You know - I replied - it must be true, it must be true that there must be inequality between a dominant class and an under-their-rule-class from the very beginning...something genetically established from the very beginning...a superior class against an inferior class. How can you explain otherwise this hatred, this indifference to the sufferance of people? People are poor, they die for wars they don't want, governments that don't represent the interests of people but the interest of the dominant class...how is this possible?... Do I bore you?
No! Why do you ask?
I had the impression I was boring you.
You know that I have always wanted to have a professor in my life. She laughed.
Good. I smiled. Therefore, it must be true that at the beginning of our species another species there must be, a species that comes from the space. A reptilian species, maybe.
She fell silent.
I fell silent.
Listen, she said, it is raining like in the summer.
The window was open, the rain falling was heard.

What strange winter that winter. A prolonged autumn, without end, was accompanying the sound of the rain outside, beyond the opened window we were staring at.

What is beyond that window, beyond that rain? She levelly asked me.
Fear. I responded.What for? she answered.
For life. The life that could have been, but it is not. It has been designed a life that from the beginning runs between hatred and hope, the hope to be redeemed. And this is the most absurd thing we experience every day. We have been created as a resource for the elites, you know, this is the truth, but we aspire to something greater, this is the truth because inside us there are the genes of our creators. I watched her. I realized she was confused. She was in a state of cognitive dissonance.
Let's take into account what is happening beyond that window. Can you believe that this is a pandemic?
Isn't it? She interposed.
There are many reasons to doubt it. Too many. The virus is not so lethal. No more than normal influenza. It kills the elderly, mostly.
Why? She asked.
We are too many in this world. We have to eliminate the "useless eaters" as somebody called the elderly. So it is designed.
But designed by whom?.
I don't know. By somebody who designed it in a lab. Whose plans are not clear. Maybe the Global Cult of the vaccine. The propaganda they did has been a masterpiece. People are now scared, in panic. They looted supermarkets. Every day media talks about the virus, hours and hours...people are in a panic.
There are a lot of electromagnetic waves, out there...
She surprised me with that observation.
What are you talking about? I asked.
The human frequency, the human energy, I understand, can be manipulated using a virus, which is a different energy, to disturb the electric field of humanity. To create disharmony in our existences.
Oh! I said. You can put in that way if you want. I didn't think like you think. But why not? Maybe you are more clever than me. Maybe you are right.
Again we stared at the window, a frail glass partition, that prevented us to be part of the horror living out there. Whatever was happening beyond that partition was still far from our lives. We felt uselessly safe, though. Protected, nevertheless.
And we were still calm, without panicking.
The world had so changed, different from when I was a kid. Almost unrecognizable.
She closed the eyes, like dead.

Our love had started a few weeks before the plague outbreak in that Coffee shop. And the outbreak had revealed the real face of the world, bringing us closer than we could imagine. A new order, without humanity and gods, was going to be installed. Where the man and cattle were at the same level. A world without borders and states. Where the centre was giving impulse to the periphery and the control was total.
I believed everything would have processed more slowly. But it was not so. There had been a violent surge. And it happened in one day. A few days before the situation was calm. Lithuanians had celebrated the Kaziuko Mugė and the Lietuvos nepriklausomybės atkūrimo diena.
It was hard to foresee such a change. But the tsunami was coming.
That afternoon the Lithuanian prime minister declared the lockdown, the day after the streets were deserted. People full of terror stayed at home. The tsunami was closer. Very close. One almost perceived the roaring.
We decided that was time to escape the plague-ridden Vilnius and find shelter and safety in a little wooden house near Utena. There was a tiny lake there. A lot of green to walk around the lake. We had a fireplace in the living room, just in front of an old sofa. A little kitchen, where to cook, immediately after the entrance. The bedroom was upstairs, under the roof, and it was illuminated through a big window, from which we could look upon than the desolate fears of our soul.
“Any virus is born from the conjunctions of Rahu or Ketu (the invisible planets that denote the points of intersection of the paths of the sun and moon). Due to the combination of Guru (Jupiter) and Ketu, the plague intensifies.” Was saying a famous Indian astrologer in a YouTube video
He pointed to the planetary positions for the spread of the plague from China to the rest of the world. “But fortunately, on March 30, Guru is leaving Ketu’s alliance and entering Capricorn. That means after March 30, we will all be free from the effects of the plague. This will start from 2.58pm on March 24 itself.”

We safely stayed in that little wooden house waiting for March 24. In pain every hope gives you hope.
There was a deep sense of death that was chocking and freezing around. The plague was around even though it was unseen to us. You could sense the smell.

At night the streets were invaded by rats that came out of the sewers. Experts began to "crawl" on TV to reassure everyone and say that rats simply had nothing to eat, and they climbed up from the sewers. But probably that wasn’t the real reason.
At daylight, big flocks of crows invaded the public gardens and squares of Vilnius.
And an asteroid with a diameter between 1.1 and 2.5 miles was approaching earth by the end of April.
NASA scientists stated it could end civilization, beyond any doubts.

In those days I was constantly trying to guess the words that were coming to the surface of her body, of her smooth flesh, from the unknown depths of the world around us, from the cataclysm around us. Her body spoke words of truth, of her resilience to the plague’s disasters.
Empires have fallen because of plagues. The Antonine plague, the plague of Cyprian weakened the Roman Empire. A new plague was weakening the global system now and again.

What sublimity, to stand erect amid the desolation of the human race  and not to lie prostrate with those who have no hope 
So spoke her body to me, so were her words to me, which I caught in her existence close to mine..
Why were tardily emerging those thoughts? What had they to do with the emerging of crows and rats coming to publicity from their hidden holes?
She was teaching me the language of flesh, the language of the earth and that of the universe. She had the same sky in the eyes that once shone above us. The same deep blue sky had penetrated her eyes, which now vaunted the pathos coming from the Unmoved Doer. Those eyes participated in the tragedy of all universe we lived in.

But they seemed to simply look at the sky. They give the impression they were expecting the sun prodigally pouring down the sunlight, on us, like a blessing. We were in the garden sitting on a bench in front of the tiny lake when a slight breeze stirred around us. I had the buzz of a hallucination.
I sensed death in the air, and I was asking myself whether I played fitly the comedy of my life.
I always think about death, I dream of death. I said.
I have the impression that you want to leave this world. That you no longer want to live. But don't you think about me? What will I do without you?  She whispered resting her head on my shoulder. I saw tears coming from her eyes
Strange days those days. Eerie hums were coming down from the sky. Low level, low-frequency hums. Nobody knew the reason. It caused sleepless, nausea, made people nervous, anxious, depressed. That was a phenomenon all over the world. Popping up across the globe.
The end of the black hole was still far. In many parts of the world, the same script was played.

The Plague We Live In (Part 9)

He looked at me with grey eyes. the same grey that was beyond the big window, beyond the noisy crossroad, beyond Vilnius, beyond the sky which pushed us to search for a safe shelter from an unknown thrill that was about to pierce our humanity.
It was as if every single day of my life in Vilnius were selected by something that resonates in the silence of the night and when I woke up it pierced the still sleeping brain, again.
I thought (I hoped) that it would disappear, but it did not. It would colour my entire day yet, And that colour had the same colour of Alvaro’s eyes.
It seemed, that we, both, had the knowledge to involuntarily obey to a memory of a far night rapidly approaching. Was that memory the secret Demiurge of our mind?
I remembered the first days in Vilnius. The new reality, above all. The new people, the new culture. The new mentality.
New colours, new flavours, new smells...a different world from the world I was coming from. But, the most important thing I learned at that time was a truth regarding Vilnius that stroke me for its evidence. I found it in a book written by a Lithuanian author, Kristina Sabaliauskaitė. In Lithuanian, it sounded like this "Niekas šiame mieste nėra tai, kas gali pasirodyti iš pirmo žvilgsnio".
That truth, hidden and unknown up to that moment, smogė, hit me, in the face with the gravity of its brutality. "Nobody in this city may be what it seems to be at first glance".
In those days I was interested in martial arts. I believed in Thai Chi and I had met a Thai Chi's Master. He invited me to see his method. He worked with knives at night in the forest.
One night I went to the forest to see like he worked.
He was exposed to moonlight. He danced. He seemed electric. Perhaps half-tiger, half-snake. He moved like a dervish dancer and had the flexibility of a cat. In front of him, a woman with two knives tried to hit and cut him. The Master was frantically moving his body like a wave, like a stream that recoiled from the blade of the weapon that impetuously arose from right, left, and also from the top and from the bottom.
But he flinched back not in fear, not in horror. Just a serene sneer was giving strength to his action.
He talked of love and Thai Chi,

If one punches with anger, his mind is dangerously sick. For this reason, we must seek love in martial arts, love is fluid like smoke, it moves everywhere and in every direction. Only if love is the object of your mind your body becomes fluid. In anger, fear and in hatred, the body is rigid, hard. Love is energy if you have love you have energy, an inexhaustible source of energy. After fifty years of age, the body needs elasticity and fluidity. Everyone loves himself. Who does not have a little love for himself? Maybe a few...usually people love themselves, their ego. A martial artist must look inside and seek for love if he wants energy.
The main question we need to ask ourselves is how to transform our daily living in happiness. Martial arts can do that if we base them on Love. To do this you don’t have to think of what is very effective in martial arts. Not the technique works but works the man you are (it doesn’t count you are a fighter or not).
You must be gentle. No hatred, but love. Leave hate, leave anger, rancour, to these people who work in the city offices or ministries who do not know how to get to the end of their days. Perfect slaves of a system of human annihilation. Remember the wave. Remember the wave. It goes up and when it reaches the highest point seems to stop for a moment and then comes down instead and brings death and destruction. But it does not immediately fall down, it has a pause, an apparent pause, before unleashing its violence. But the wave in itself has no violence, it follows its nature. Thus the body, it must follow the wave of love, the nature of love, the nature of us, human beings, and not the stiffening of hatred. Feel the wave from your heel till your punch, feel the wave through your body, through your leg, through your back, until your final punch bursts!
I was immediately fascinated by the Master, whom I remember had the same grey eyes as Alvaro.I started Thai Chi's classes with him. But after some weeks his classes started attracting a lot of girls and became a combination of spiritual and frivolous glamour. In those weeks, he had been seen many times on the national Lithuanian TV in several talk shows. He had been interviewed by the most important Lithuanian magazines, which turned him into a fairly well-known personage in Lithuania. The Master had changed. He was now very vulnerable to female beauty. He was defenceless against it. 
He had lost his sense of calm trust in the fate of his mission, in the quiet submission to his stoic composure in the face of danger and in a certain disdain of worldly life. 
He now appreciated the worldly life. He loved that kind of life, like never before. 
I talked to The Master about his change. 
His answer was quite curious. 
A man who has read a little smells a little pedantic, a man who has read a lot smells even worse.
He realized my blank expression, for he added.
An intellectual is like a machine. I now consider intellect less important than emotion. I now experiment with emotions. Intellectual emotions did not drive me where I wanted. I thought about my life…have you ever wondered why I do Thai Chi?
No. Why? I responded.
I used to combat before.
You?
Yes. Here in Vilnius, there was an underground fighting circuit, where anyone could fight. Illegal fights. Extreme fights
And you really did this?
Yes.
Why?
I challenged myself. I wanted to overcome the fear I had.
Fear? You? To fight?
Yes, fear…that’s it. That’s it...It was what I needed to get over my panic. I needed adrenaline, the adrenaline that would pump in all my body, in every atom of my being. People come to see fighting for adrenaline. They bring you adrenaline. Music shakes the walls. People are intoxicated, yell, bay, get crazy, want to see blood. Just wait for you stepping into the ring ready to draw blood from your opponent.
Did you win?
I won, I lost…but I learned to have a big heart. To combat you need a big heart. If you don’t have a big heart after 2-3 rounds…done. But if you fight with a big heart, after the fight, when you leave the ring, people surround you, touch you, yell out after you “You are great! You fight so crazy!”…too much, too much of everything. Too much violence. I had to change. I did develop an unbearable hankering for fighting, anywhere ... so I started practising Thai Chi. I had to harness all that energy, focus it into one point. Dominate it. And maybe I became too sophisticated, too whimsical, too freakish perhaps…but fighting is a resolution of self-destruction. Self-destruction is a work of man’s will. It is a shortcut to death. But soon, I realized that I didn’t want to die. I wanted to live, I wanted life. I chose life and eros. Love and sex.

I moved to Vilnius because I needed new adrenaline to be pumped in my blood. I was intoxicated by my past life. I needed new stimuli, life and eros. Said Alvaro.
I blankly gazed at him. I was speechless, Did he read my mind?His voice brought me back to him. I had forgotten him and had lost myself in my thoughts. What did you say? Why did you say that? I responded.

The Plague We Live In (Part 8)

Thank you for calling me. I said.
My pleasure. I wanted to meet you. He answered.
I am curious. Why?
I read your book.
Which one?
The End Of Humanity.
Oh! I hope you enjoyed it.
A lot.
Thanks.
Yes. I am sincere. Otherwise, I wouldn't be here.
Thanks, again. I appreciated it.
Why do you live in Lithuania?
Oh...big question...I should say for love...which all moves without being moved! As Aristotle teaches...(I laughed)...of course....but it is not the only reason.What else, then?When I was a kid my country, our country, was different, was another world. Now everything has changed. There is a different skyline. We have been invaded by other cultures, races, bodies...this is not the culture, the society I grew up in. It has become a world I felt I didn't belong to anymore.But here you are a complete foreigner, this not your land...Better to be a foreigner in a foreign country than a foreigner in your country. It was so painful to be embedded into an extraneous mosaics.Is Italy missing?I miss my town. Empoli. I wouldn't have ever thought that I could miss my town. I didn't love Empoli while living there. But now almost every night I dream of Empoli.What do you miss the most?The atmosphere. The stillness, The provinciality. The bars, The pastries, above the bomboloni alla crema, with a lot of cream inside. And of course il caffè, il cappuccino...Alvaro burst into laughter.Do you really believe in reptilians? He added after calming down his laughter.Oddio! I answered. I should have seen a fanatic gleam in his eyes, but perhaps I was distracted by his question. It seemed that that word "Reptilians" had a magic sound in his mouth.I might have changed something if I had deciphered the direction of that gleam?

The Plague We Live In (Part 7)

I remember the day Alvaro arrived at Vero Cafè. It was a November day, a rainy day, not cold though, in spite of being November. But the sky was covered and grey. The coffee shop was crowded, as usual, there was a cosy and warm atmosphere, in there.
I still recall those vivid images: us sitting at a table next to the big window, from which we could admire the large intersection, a crossroads of infinite traffic for noisy cars and colourful pedestrians.
I had an urgent gut feeling. How fast life was passing by.
Those days I had fallen in a deep state of dismay. Only she could mitigate my pain. She kissed me on the temple and stroked my hair to soothe my turbulence inside.
Without her, I would feel lost. I would be lost forever.
I felt as if I have been thrown into the Dostoevsky’s underground. I was in that underground, thrown in a corner, out of my life, excruciating myself for lack of real life. I felt that I lacked a sense of belonging to. I was a déraciné from that world. 
I lived in my underground with her. I loved watching her sleeping. I followed the features of her face while trying to find out who really was behind that beloved face. Who are you? Are you the person I think you are? What‘s behind you?
I perceived her face as an obstacle, an obstacle to the truth that I felt hidden behind the face I adored. An eternal and immutable truth, riddled with a matter that was-not-matter.One night I felt as if I were sleeping outside my body, as though a layer had been removed from me. And suddenly I looked at myself from above. I was there at a height of about two meters and I saw myself lying down.
Was I dead? Maybe, but I didn't feel like dead. I was just excited.
Was it all real?
I felt incredibly light. It was, however, a lightness that no human being can experience because we simply live stuck in bodies.
I wanted to look at my feet but couldn't find any feet. I then searched for my hands and did not even see the hands. Was I still experiencing something like being in a body that I was out of?
I remember being surrounded by incredible silence. An indescribable silence. A silence that we cannot perceive on earth in any way.
Then a door opened on my left side. It was not a door, it was like a door frame, and it was full of light. And that light had a different frequency than that on the earth. It was in no way comparable to sunlight.
I was attracted to the light and moved towards it. I moved slowly toward that source full of light. I heard a voice. A voice that said: Do you want to go? Do you really want to go?
It was just a voice. I saw nothing or nobody.
Do you really want to go? The voice repeated, for the third time. I thought of her, I looked at her lying in bed next to me. A force brought me back to my body at an incredible speed.
From that night a new consciousness took possession of my being. I realized that, we, humans are immortal. And what we experience as fear of death is only fear of immortality. We are beings made of consciousness and the universe we live in is pure consciousness, we belong to the universe as consciousness and we have the same greatness as that Consciousness. But the possibility of the infinite scares us.
We came to the existence in order to experience limitation and what it means for the conscience to be attached to, to be in need of, to love...we cannot be conscious of love without experiencing love within this very existence.
Challenging that grey November day Alvaro came in. He seemed to be a quiet, modest and serious person. He spoke aloud, in a baritone voice, and I remember that the Lithuanians close to our table appeared bothered by his tone. That morning I knew that he had arrived in Lithuania a few months ago, that he worked for an online newspaper.He had a strange way of looking. He seemed like one who was inspired by something which was beyond him and me and he knew what that was.