Elu ja kõik muu, autoriks W. Hocares

Because of some strange, incomprehensible state I got onto the top of the Eiffel Tower. To the top itself, to these red sparkling lamps.Paris spread in different directions, but I didn’t care! Paris or not - I was interested why all these police and ambulance cars are swarming down there. Some people - they seemed so small from here! - waved to me. I waved to them to answer.

From early childhood there has been a question tormenting me: if I jumped very strongly from the top of tower, would  I be able to jump away from the base of the tower or I tumble against the iron body of tower before hitting the ground. The cars from the fire department joined the police and ambulance cars. They are fools: if a man planned seriously a jump from the tower to commit suicide, then the entire French army would not be sufficient for his rescue; but if he is not intended to complete that, only one person would be enough - the policeman, who would arrest the ‘jumper’ for the disturbance of law and order - therefore the present friendly assemblage below wasn’t anything else than the expenditure of the money of taxpayers.

Thank God - I didn’t belong any of the two groups mentioned above - I simply wanted to know how my leap would end and to find out there was only one possibility. I waved my hands and jumped.

For the last hundred of metres I was rolling uncontrollably against the skeleton of the tower. My clothes and face were covered with rust, when after I-do-not-know-how-many-somersaults arose to my feet. I took a cigarette from my pocket and lit it with my cigarette lighter. “With the appropriate wind this would have been even more successful,” I said to the approaching policemen, doctors and another persons with important, but frightened faces. Then I hada glance at the  cigarette in my hand. “This is the only ’sin’, which I still could not get rid of.” There was silence around me.

“Are you nuts?” cried one medic in a white tunic finally.

“No, I am not. Only a little bit curious. But now if you’ll excuse!” I said forcing my way through the crowd in the direction of my car. “I must go to change my clothes.”

Ignorance - the stronges weapon, which men can use. If you teach a man physics and he understands through the superhuman efforts why that apple fell on Newton’s head, then he will forever connect this in his way of thinking that things fall downwards. Nothing can reconvince him. And as confirmation of that - the spot on its coat - which was obtained from the random overflown bird. In the dazzling light of his firm knowledge, he does not note even this simple truth that he had never ever before been shitted on. “Once you already accepted the knowledge and thinking of main society, then you have to live by that,” I said to the policeman, who sat by the other side of the table.

They did not let me go and so I had to sit opposite the inspector with the dull expression on his face and I guessed he had such dull thinking as well. I had been trying to explain him for the last 5 hours the meaninglessness of accusing me with disturbance of order. I had died after the jump from the tower, they would have considered me as unhappy and lost spirit; however, if I had got injured after that, I would have been a super-happy person - born in a jacket of luck - in their eyes, and all nonsense like that.

But I was okey.

And now I became a criminal. There stood an empty chair next to the wall. “If I jumped from this chair, would I commit a crime?" The Inspector shaked his head non-understandingly. “Then tell me if you please - in what kind of damned law  the altitude limit indicated, and where is it written that a leap from higher places than that limit would be punished by law?"

All is based on how questions are asked. For example - my day was definitely ruined. Not only the unsuccessful leap; I had to have a conversation with the narrow-minded official, who cannot understand with his best desires that the majority of his problems in life come from misunderstanding of simple facts.

They were forced to free me.

Fantaasia on täiega nulli end tõmmanud. Nii originaalne pealkiri tuli, et ma hakkan vaikselt kaaluma juba kirjutamisest loobumist:) Tegelikult on pärast Eestisse naasmist keskendumisega üldse suuri probleeme olnud. Pea on sassis ja ei jaga ka lihtsamaist asjust midagi… Muidugi - eks ta raske ole pärast selliseid kohti ja temperatuuri, mis varjus pidevalt 28-32 näitas:)

Tahan tagasi, kurat võtaks! Juua frappe’d ja lihtsalt olla.

Aga vahelduseks tuleb ka tööd tea, kuigi ise ei taipa küll, miks…

Need vahepealsed rahulikud hetked, mida elu mulle kinkis tänutäheks jumal-üksi-teab-mille eest, on vist otsa lõppenud. Hommikused peavalud, lõunane tüdimus ja õhtune masendus - mille nimel kõik see? Mille nimel on siiani oldud?

Vaatan ringi, teen tööd ja isegi ei tea, miks. Miks on seda kõike vaja? Kellele? Mulle? Ei - see ei ole nii. Praegusel hetkel on kusagil seespool tundmus, et teen seda kõike kellegile teisele; et elan, aga mitte endale. Justkui laenatud elu. Kurb.

Proovisin vahepeal leida mõtteid, et hakata taas korralikumalt kirjutama, aga nagu sõrmeotsad klaviatuuri puutusid, kadus koos sooviga ka idee. Why so? Ei tea. Raske on tulla paradiisist tagasi reaalsusesse, kus mitte just kõik hästi ei lähe. Ok - tegelikult peaksin vist sõnastama selle mõtte teisiti. Et on tore, kui vähemalt mõni üksik pisiasigi hästi läheb…

Saigi siis Corful käidud. Juba tahaks tagasi, sest nii palju jäi veel nägemata-tegemata.

Aga mõtted juba liiguvad:)

"uhIChTJeEr"

Soov olla ja minna, jääda rippuma kuhugi vahepeale, kust oleks võimalik nautida mõlema poole paremaid külgi… Soov tunda end elusana. Nii vähe. Aga nii palju oleks see praegu…

Praegu on vaid hetk. Sügavik. Mitte sügavaim, mida olen näinud, kuid siiski piisavalt, et mitte enam näha valgust. Valgust, mis annab jõudu, päikest, mis annab sooja. Mitte enam tunda tuult, mis annab märku millegi vaheldumisest - talumatu mõte. Talumatu olek. Aga see ei ole veel põhi, ei ole veel lõpp. Alati on kohti, kuhu minna, kuhu liikuda edasi. On valikud, paremad ja halvemad, võimalused kujundada midagi uut, isegi varemnägematut.

Hetk. Selline, kus ükski valik ei tundu lillelisena…

Hetk. Hetk kaljunukil selle sügaviku seinal. Kas jätkub jõudu, et hüpata üles?