Читать книгу Tales Written by the Dying in Awe - Vysheslav Filevsky - Страница 27

How can one live for one who is loved by nobody or almost nobody? You are correct: this is awful. This is why I love flies. I feel a great pity for them.

Look at with what hatred people chase them out of their rooms with towels! Just imagine that this were you and not a fly some huge creature is trying to hit with a flyswatter – no, a human swatter? Imagine that it is your path along which flypaper is placed, and you become stuck to it and scream in despair, anticipating your inevitable end. Imagine that it is you, who – nobody knows why – is being poisoned by gases.

Birds similar to the roc try to peck you with their beaks. Hidden frogs the size of cottages throw out their long sticky tongues and try to swallow you. Would this not seem too cruel and unfair to you? Would it? Only two or three times in your life would a loving being nestle up with you ass to ass, and finally you would taste felicity. However, this can serve a consolation for all the misery…

Well, you know, as a matter of fact, sometimes flies like you. They wish to communicate with you. They flock about you, sit on you, make contact with you in the way that is available to them. But what do you do in response? Do you return the tender affection? No! Maliciously, you chase the loving creature away or even strive to beat it to death.

Well, flies’ fates are unenviable. What is it, divine punishment? Maybe. Ponder this the next time negative emotions arise toward a fly. Think that perhaps it loves you, that for your rage against a living creature, there is a high probability that you could be punished – for example, in the form of your next incarnation in the body of a fly. Then other people would hate you and chase you away – although for this it is not necessary to be a fly at all. Sometimes this happens to people who are out of favor with heaven and are being punished.

Nevertheless, you know, flies have something enviable. With cold weather’s arrival, not all flies die between your window frames. Some of them find secluded places and go beddy-bye for the winter. Flies’ lifetimes are short by human reckoning. Imagine if you slept through thirty or fifty years! How great it would be to wake up and see an absolutely different life! To feel delight for the accomplishments of scientists and engineers, accomplishments beyond your dreams! To see, finally, how human society transformed, to what extent it became more spiritual and kind! Oh, how marvelous it would be. But unfortunately, I am not a fly.