Things of the Strange. Of Alive Ones

An Alive one – you cannot see the reflection of you in it.
It does not care – if you’re dressed or not.
An Alive one – it does not reflect the surfaces.
An Alive one – it is not some polished aluminum.
An Alive one – it does reflect only an Essence, an Inner.
An Alive one needs to live.
An Alive one – you cannot hang it on your wall as an exhibit covered with the plastic wrap, so no one could touch it: out of the air it will wither to death in there.
An Alive one – it has a need for an air. This is the only thing that unites all which are alive…
A need for an Air to breathe. The only way to let an Alive one to stay alive – to let it breathe the air.
This is a difficult task. Sometimes even an agonizing one.
But a doable one.
An Alive one – it needs to love.
If it fell in love with You – you let it be free, let it be live. Work hard, clean the deepest, the dirtiest corners of yourself – and let it be free. This is so simple – ‘cause if it doesn’t love you – what can you do except to kill it or set it free?
To kill, to set free – the same difference – the same state for you – you won’t have it anyway– so let it be free, while it is still alive.
And then – an Alive one, it will stay with you forever. And you forever will stay Alive.
Placed behind the plastic wrap, an Alive one deforms, perverts and learns how to hate. It covers itself with mould, some purple sleazy slime and grime. It becomes a twisted filthy thing so it could find a way to slip out beyond the wrap. To finally have some air to breathe - to live. To Live. Crippled, ok, – but to live.
Placed behind the plastic wrap, an Alive one learns how to lie.
Learned how to lie – an Alive one dies. Because it’s perfectly natural.
Upon death it becomes what it was wanted to be: simple, cleansed, hard to the touch, inflexible, and shiny of course. Polished to a mirror-shine state. Shiny enough to reflect its owner.
Alive one turns into a Thing.
And so you treasure you thing, it is dear to you – while it is yours. You love it, you care for it – while it is yours. You do forbid everyone to touch your precious thing, so they won’t spoil it with their hungry dirty fingers – while it is yours.
And the thing – it must know, it must see that it is greatly minded of.
The thing must know that there, outside its perfect wrap, - there are only disgusting dirty streets, slush, poverty and flatness. There, beyond the wrap, there are no plush cloths for polishing, there is no this nice liquid for brainwashing… And this is so terrifying.
There – there is horrifying… And that is because you are not going to take care of the thing any longer. Never. And there is no one except you in this morbid world who would really need such a freaky useless little thing, so you’re doing it a favor, a mercy, keeping it inside your house using it, giving it a purpose to be… and to be used. So – the only lot it has to win out of your hands is to be discarded, thrown out into the rain, to be covered with grey filth, to be left decaying without proper care somewhere under the church-porch…
But when you lose the thing or someone steels it like a plain any other thing, you feel very astonished and even outraged. A wonder there – why is that? There is no idea why you should feel like this - it was only a thing, just a thing – they use to crack, to brake, they come and go so easily. What’s dead – is dead.
So ease yourself – just spit with your spittle.
Big deal … you’ll say…- like… ah… Newton’s Binomial…. Anna Karenina… To h…
One thing, the other one, the third… - whatever the fuck difference… Lookie there – plenty of staff like this in the market. So why bother – you won’t even remember the previous one, you have another one already. A new one – so gorgeous and shiny, and so reflecting your wealth…

Well…
You just be careful enough not to break this one too.
What if … she’s also Alive?..




Do cry now…