MUSIC: Alexander Kopeikin, Current 93, OraRosea
PREMIERE: 1999 Moscow
DURATION: 53 min.
I would like to take vengeance of my dream that abandoned me on halfway home.
It is absurd and incoherent, and it will never find a new master. Nevertheless, without it I do lots of most banal things to assure myself that I do exist, although looking in the mirror I can never be certain as to which of us is just a reflection.
Somebody else stirring inside me, and sometimes his objective appears to be outside, and he is positively going to get out. When he makes up his mind at last, when he gets short of food or comfort inside my body, he will throw me off like lizard throws off its tail. I'm afraid to think about it, but I cannot lend my life to someone else. Have I actually neared emptiness? I look closer to the world around - has it become darker? - And I cannot reply, and I cannot count cold bumps from inside myself, like those of a fish that trouble my spirit and cover my heart with sand...
What do I see? - The road that cut this flat lands with. The road that cannot turned off, that I cannot leave behind.
It begins within myself and dives into emptiness at the edge of the world. It puts its back invariable under my feet.
What do I feel? - Hatred and fear because my home is changing or perishing, which is, however, the same.
I believe that everything will change, that the hunger torturing my stomach and the fear tormenting my soul will part for ever...
This show is inhuman,- it is so devoid of humanity, that it is absolutely impossible to speak about the dramatic of what is going on, about sense, about form, about sign, about symbol and other toys so wonderfully surrounding the place appropriated by the man, the Core of the World. But the core of this world is empty, or, rather, there is no core, no point that this world would need more than any of its other points. And the man has got lost at once; he has got entangled amongst thousands of his reflections, amongst countless planes of his consciousness. Without a home and a name he has become a tiny formless and worthless particle of the world, the only aim of whose existence being its existence. The threads constituting the tissue of the world have loosened, and into the fresh gaps is looking the ineffable Nothing - light far from any light, the soundless sound, the invincible emptiness devoid of anything, holding the world like a sweets in the mouth the moment before swallowing it. It is hard to believe, it is nearly impossible to perceive, but to make sure that the surrounding world is real, one has to assure himself of his being real in the coreless world