There is always a day in your life when you have a premonition of something to happen.
And you know that it will be a huge change in your life. After this day you will be reborn completely different. A new person with new goals, totally purified from previous experiences.
Well, it wasn't this day.
I wanted it to be as a huge difference in my life. For better or for worse but a change, finally. I needed it and was determined to have it, like a slap in my face-sudden and painful. I wanted it to crush me, and either I live or it will drag me to the extremities where logic has no place.
These feelings were only possible with women. They are unpredictable when it comes to a relationship. They are torn by contradictions, you never trust what they say, you never take for granted what they really feel. And either you hang around them and develop yourself as a slave, a maggot fearing of being crushed under a high heel shoe or you can be a son-of-a-bitch and treat them as whores, abuse them sexually and discard as objects. There is also a third attitude towards women but it remains in the sphere of ideal towards which few men reach. And once they reach it they learn that it is not so interesting and rather boring to stay at the ideal level, so they fall from the ideal cloud down to the "fallen angel pit." Eventually, they lose in their female game. They can pretend to be powerful and keeping themselves under control but in the end when faced with her they collapse, break in two and make themselves volatile. They become feeble and a woman can sculpture him in her way.
So I had two riddles to solve. The first concerned the murders, and was less important. The second investigation was my own, private. I wanted to know the truth about her. Being a man, full of simplicity and devoted to the search for the one correct answer, I pursued to learn what I thought will release all my minds hinges in opening all her secrets. And being a man, I imagined more than there actually was and which conceived monsters who kept me awake at night.
The time spent with her was more like knocking to gates made of lead that never open or looking down the well and getting a selfless feedback from your screaming. What I knew was that after her husband's death she was just concentrated on raising her daughter and keeping all her admirers on distance. She was still absorbed with the past life, idealizing it and looking only on the bright side of past life with her now dead husband. She rejected any alternative to live with someone else. Her daughter was enough for her to gave her most of her time.
Once she said to me: 'There won't be any other man so close to me as my husband was in my life. And I don't want any other man to replace him because there will never be so strong bond between me and someone else that I can fully engage in. And if I cannot engage in that kind of relationship, I won't be fully myself. I will be just a mere shadow for him, always thinking about my previous man.'
'You are living in a dream,' I remember saying to her. 'Let it be a dream then,' she answered and left me standing in the desolate street at 3 in the morning.
On her own wish she closed herself in a capsule which I wanted to open and let her breathe again. Breathe like before but with a fresh air, not choking with stifling odours of beautiful but already obsolete and blind image of the past. And I promised myself to do this even if I would be digging my own grave.
And you know that it will be a huge change in your life. After this day you will be reborn completely different. A new person with new goals, totally purified from previous experiences.
Well, it wasn't this day.
I wanted it to be as a huge difference in my life. For better or for worse but a change, finally. I needed it and was determined to have it, like a slap in my face-sudden and painful. I wanted it to crush me, and either I live or it will drag me to the extremities where logic has no place.
These feelings were only possible with women. They are unpredictable when it comes to a relationship. They are torn by contradictions, you never trust what they say, you never take for granted what they really feel. And either you hang around them and develop yourself as a slave, a maggot fearing of being crushed under a high heel shoe or you can be a son-of-a-bitch and treat them as whores, abuse them sexually and discard as objects. There is also a third attitude towards women but it remains in the sphere of ideal towards which few men reach. And once they reach it they learn that it is not so interesting and rather boring to stay at the ideal level, so they fall from the ideal cloud down to the "fallen angel pit." Eventually, they lose in their female game. They can pretend to be powerful and keeping themselves under control but in the end when faced with her they collapse, break in two and make themselves volatile. They become feeble and a woman can sculpture him in her way.
So I had two riddles to solve. The first concerned the murders, and was less important. The second investigation was my own, private. I wanted to know the truth about her. Being a man, full of simplicity and devoted to the search for the one correct answer, I pursued to learn what I thought will release all my minds hinges in opening all her secrets. And being a man, I imagined more than there actually was and which conceived monsters who kept me awake at night.
The time spent with her was more like knocking to gates made of lead that never open or looking down the well and getting a selfless feedback from your screaming. What I knew was that after her husband's death she was just concentrated on raising her daughter and keeping all her admirers on distance. She was still absorbed with the past life, idealizing it and looking only on the bright side of past life with her now dead husband. She rejected any alternative to live with someone else. Her daughter was enough for her to gave her most of her time.
Once she said to me: 'There won't be any other man so close to me as my husband was in my life. And I don't want any other man to replace him because there will never be so strong bond between me and someone else that I can fully engage in. And if I cannot engage in that kind of relationship, I won't be fully myself. I will be just a mere shadow for him, always thinking about my previous man.'
'You are living in a dream,' I remember saying to her. 'Let it be a dream then,' she answered and left me standing in the desolate street at 3 in the morning.
On her own wish she closed herself in a capsule which I wanted to open and let her breathe again. Breathe like before but with a fresh air, not choking with stifling odours of beautiful but already obsolete and blind image of the past. And I promised myself to do this even if I would be digging my own grave.
