METAMORPHOSIS


When I was already on the verge of losing consciousness, as the scattered, bacteria colony-like patterns below circled nearer and nearer, I suddenly realized that their components were unfinished houses, their faintness- the flying snow which I could also now distinguish, each snowflake- ìóõà, è æãó÷èå ñòåêëî, but their disarray- it was still nothing to me. The disarray recalled something I could not yet place because my eyes were focused on the array and my mind understood only the quadratic arranged blocks of Europe that it had grown accustomed to, blocks of rooms of trees, all this still ì÷àëîñü along the lines of linear time, and to see in detail what was before my eyes, to see it truly, I had to recall the same non-linear fragments by which someone else, and not I, thought. Only then could I try to project that upon linear time and see everything and myself as it really existed. As of now, I saw blurred fragments, I was too high up, I talked to God, was a foreigner to the snow, ñíåãó è ó÷àñòêàì, ÷óæîé ñâîåìó òåëó, because I saw chaos through the lens of order as the airplane circled to the ground, and I wished I could have both lenses side by side at the same time. The dizzying, nearing circles of that chaos were making me nauseous, because they were not yet mine. And once they became mine, I would lose sight of them, I would dissolve in them, in the shacks, the snowed over pines, the electronic lines and towers mixing with the birches, in the white apartment tower boxes and their flickering windows which I, thinking in terms of time and not yet fragmented space, mistook for something else….

But if I could, in that moment when I switched and began thinking in terms of space instead, reconcile space and time, then the plane at hand would no longer resemble a paradox, then Achilles ïðîì÷àëñÿ áû ìèìî ÷åðåïàõè, è íå äóìàë áû ÿ òîãäà â ðàìêàõ ÿçûêà, óäåðæàâ îáà êàê äâà êîíöà îäíîé è òîé-æå íèòè. If I could only grasp on to and not let go, tie together at the very instant of transition, of touchdown, my masculine language with my feminine, English with Russian, time with space, then I would understand and be able to conclude the theory I had been working on for months now, then I would neither be confused by the hazy chaos below now nor later overwhelmed by the weight and mass of its reality, for reality was only the product of time and space.


Íî áûëî óæå ïîçäíî. Ðóêè ñâîè ÿ ñòàëà óçíàâàòü êàê áóäòî âíîâü, òàê æå, êàê ïëàñòìàññà ïðåâðàòèëàñü â ñòåêëî, ëåä- â âîäó, àíãëèéñêèé- â ðóññêèé, à ÿ, íå óëîâèòü ïðàâèëüíûé ìîìåíò, âäðóã âñïîìíèëà, îò êóäà êîëüöî íà ìîåé ðóêå, îò êóäà ðàäèî ìàÿê, ÷åé äèêòîðñêèé ãîëîñ ðàçäàâàëñÿ èç ïðèåìíèêà. Âåäü óòåðÿâ çàïàõ ñíåãà, âäðóã âñå ïðèîáðåëî çàïàõ âåñíû, òÿíóâøèñü èç îêíà êóõíè, âîçëå êîòîðîãî ñîâñåì íå äàâíî, ïî ìîåé ïðîñüáå, ïðèñòðîèëè ñåðîâàòûé òðåõïðîãðàììíûé ñîâåòñêèé ïðèåìíèê, âåäü êîëüöî, ÿ çíàëà (è âñåãäà çíàëà) áûëî ïîäàðåíî ìíå ìóæåì, êîòîðûé óæå ÷àñ êàê óøåë íà ðàáîòó. È ÿ îïÿòü óæàñàëàñü ñâîåé íåïðèâû÷íîé äåòñêîé ðå÷üþ, âèäåëà è ïðèåìíèê è êîëüöî, ïîäîçðåâàÿ èõ çà äàëåêóþ òàèíñòâåííîñòü, è åùå ïîêà ÷òî çíàëà, çíàëà, åùå èçäàëåêà ÷óòü ïîìíèëà, ÷òî çà ÷åì-òî ÿ ñþäà ïðèåõàëà- ÷åãî-òî ÿ, èëè êàêîé-òî ñòðàííûé ìíå ìåëàíõîëè÷íûé ìîëîäîé ÷åëîâåê, èñêàëà èëè èñêàë. Íî ÷òî, è çà÷åì, ÿ óæå çàáûëà, èëè íèêîãäà íå çíàëà.

Ðàäèî ïåðåäàâàëî ñåãîäíÿ ñîëíå÷íóþ ïîãîäó, òåìïåðàòóðó äî âîñåìíàäöàòè ãðàäóñîâ, ê âå÷åðó íåáîëüøîé äîæäü. À ÿ íåêîòîðîå âðåìÿ âñå-òàêè ïûòàëàñü âñïîìíèòü, î ÷åì ÿ òàê áîëåçíåííî äóìàëà èëè äóìàë íåñêîëüêî ìîìåíòîâ èëè ìåñÿöåâ íàçàä, ïîíÿòü óòðà÷åííûå ìíîþ èëè íåáîì íèòè ïðîñòðàíñòâåííûõ ïðèëîæåíèé, íî íå ìîãëà ñîïîñòàâèòü èõ ñî âðåìåíåì, èáî âðåìÿ çäåñü íå òåêëî, à ïðîèñõîäèëî. Êàê áû ÿ íå ñòàðàëàñü âñïîìíèòü âðåìÿ, êàê ôèçèê ñîâìåñòèòü äâå ñèñòåìû êîîðäèíàò ïðè êîòîðîì âðåìÿ- ïðîñòî ëîïàëîñü, à îñòàâàëîñü ïðîñòðàíñòâî, íî íå ìîãëà, íå ìîãëà…. ß ñòàëà ìàòåðèåé, è îêóíóëàñü â áåçäîííóþ, äàæå ÷óòü áîëåçíåííóþ îò ñâîåé óñòàëîñòè, ñîííîñòü.