The world in which we reside is like a junction station from which the rails and sleepers point in extremely varied directions. To Machu Picchu, and to Chattanooga, and to the First, Second and Third Rome, and to the unrecognized Transdniester Republic, and to Paris-New-York-Sidney-Tokyo-Milan, and to simply Delhi, and to New Delhi, and to Nothing, Arizona, and to Mecca, and to the Moon. Or even further.
We sit at the station, chewing tobacco and gum, cracking seeds and spitting out the husks all around us. From time to time, a husky voice announces: “The train to Monaco leaves at 28.96 with the binario No. 007. The train to Cambre-La Madeleine is delayed. It will leave from Platform One at 03.03 on the 17th of Marvember of Year Zero of the Common Era. Please prepare your tickets and identity documentation, and inform the security service of any luggage that does not belong to you.”
Today, I don’t want to go to Chattanooga, I have no reason to go to Monaco, and even Nothing, Arizona doesn’t attract me. Although it would be tempting, of course, to become the fourth inhabitant of Nothing. And I don’t need Madeleine cakes until the day after tomorrow, when the tea bags run out.
No, I want to go to heaven. To where the birds in angelic accord chirp, caw, wail and sing. Where the heavens reign over the world, penetrated by a golden light of good favor. I won’t accept anything less. But here the husky voice announces: “Passenger Alexeev, your ticket to heaven has been annulled, as you have a poor credit history. Collect your bags from the left luggage room, you are expected in Office No. Zero.” I hope that everything will turn out better for you. Think in advance about how not to end up in Office No. Zero at the junction station waiting for your transport.