THE FLOWER, THE STAR, AND THE UNSPEAKABLE

 

 Texto de autoria de AustMathr Viking Dubliner e Inglesa Luso-Chinesa com direito autoral protegido pela Lei 9610/98. 

The title of this idle talk sounds much like my play The Whore, The Junkie And The Nun. Anyway, I am sure it won’t cost any life here or somewhere else. Paul Dirac once said: ‘Pick a flower on earth and you move the farthest star’. I wished I could share that with an unspeakable. I call him so because he is sort of a fake nameless humanoid creature living within the surrounding woods in the fiction movie The Village, in which the elders used to refer to it as "Those We Don't Speak Of", to scare the youngers and the children out and keep them within the limits of the village and away from the woods inhabited by the dreaded red clad legendary monsters. I reached out to the unspeakable by phone through some of the contacts we had in common. He said: “Look, we have to meet. We cannot talk about your and my secrets by phone. Your efforts to effect disclosures are noble but they won’t be permitted. And not for the reasons you think”. Well, I thought to myself, what reasons of mine he knows I bear in my mind and which do not fit his. We met and before I could say any word he told me a long and weird story which I regarded as being a hilarious lie. But I did not say anything to him and kept listening, But then he made astonishing statements: “What nobody understands is why you haven’t killed yourself yet. My dad knew about some of this way back in the 60’s. No one would do anything about it. So he took his revolver, ate his gun, and blew his head off”. Now, this guy was a five star unspeakable. I just told him I was sorry about his dad and left. I had had enough. On my way back home I was wondering why I should kill myself. I had been caught by a congenetial desease, a lethally acquired one, three attempts of murder by criminals and finally this not less lethal virus. They all spared my life.  Therefore, instead of taking my life with my own hands, I let my love go out to the flowers and to the stars, to the prostitutes, the addicted to drugs and those dedicated to God. And why not mainly to those we wish we didn’t even have to think of?