The Air of Freedom
Alexandr Piatkov
In those blissful days, when the best and most precious things in life were still
free of charge, we could breathe the fresh air without restraint and bask under
the warm rays of the sun. Yet, we took these priceless gifts for granted.
Instead, we rushed to plunder the Earth that had so rashly sheltered us—tearing
down mountains, pumping out every last drop from its depths, and poisoning the
waters. All the while, we argued over trivial nonsense: direct elections, the
rotation of power, freedom of speech, and other figments of an idle mind. Back
then, we had no inkling of what true freedom actually meant. We chased after
baubles and the freedom of enterprise, which ultimately twisted our Earth into a
living hell, where the sun is choked out and there is nothing left to breathe.
Original text in Russian:
http://proza.ru/2016/12/19/1601
German translation:
http://proza.ru/2026/11/07/1281
Original work: proza.ru/avtor/alexanderan
© Copyright: Alexandr Piatkov, 2016
Publication Certificate No. 216121901601
Translated into English by AI Assistant (Version 2026)