I started to work on a story. I am quite aware that there is no time. Not now, when the solid rock under my feet is being challenged by seismic activity of the strongest calibre and my mind’s weather conditions are that of a furious snow storm. Zero visibility. Complete chaos. No one can be sure how the scenery is going to look like when it calms down. There is a chance it might never be the same. Well, despite all that, I have to write this story. It is a personal quest and maybe the only piece of puzzle that really matters. It is true there are topics lined up in my head waiting to be discussed, analyzed, and written down... ideas which were supposed to be subjected to this process long before my story. However, I cannot force myself to stop returning to this story which, so far, managed to resist my effort to tie it down to a sheet of paper. I ponder over the details, nuances... in endless attempt to gain a clear picture of who, where and how is going to be the foundation, the trigger, the plot, the end of this. I came to believe that fiction presents for me the only way, the only chance to get back on track. Back to my reality.
Lately it seems as if a big grey cloud was hanging over the Earth. The type of cloud that follows you around nomatter how hard you try to hide or to run away. The type of cloud following cartoon characters with annoying perservance. When I was little I always wondered how is it possible that the could is simply everywhere... even inside! It made me feel deeply sorry for affected characters. I've always considered it the worst scenario possible... worst then having a little mouse hit you with a frying pan or a hammer... In this particular case, Tom would have one or two lumps on his head and, perhaps, colourful spirals in his eyes for a moment... but that was it! He shook it off and continued chasing Jerry with even more enthusiasm. On the other hand, if the storm cloud decided to follow you, there was no escape from permanent, exasperationg downpour of raindrops which would sooner or later made you (or affected animated friend) equally permanently miserable.
Now, many of my close friends, and maybe the whole planete as well, are being followed by such phantom cloud... or at least so it appears to me. A cloud full of earthquakes, nuclear catastrophes, civil wars, tsunamis, unresolved relationships, car accidents, broken hearts, unmet expectations, unfiltered emotions, sleepless nights, endless waiting and mysterious health conditions... It’s raining around me and inside me... on everyone... and it continues... drop by drop... The secret ingredient is not force but persistence. It is indeed a strange period. Especially considering the spring is slipping in. The weather is lovely, trees are blooming and grass is getting greener... My favourite season is pushing away fading reminiscence of winter and yet the world seems to be stuck in another Dark Age.
I really do not want to sound fatalistic... it’s been raining far too long. I am tired of it. That is why I need that story. I need to write it, I need to finish it. I need to do it now... while having no time, while being rained on. Every minute, I am feeling the tension. I am living the tension. It is there when I fall asleep... it is there when I wake up... The story will never be itself without it. It needs this tension as every building needs foundations. Simply, it needs the tension to exist as much as the tension needs me to represent itself. It is time for me to pass it on.
I know you feel as if it will never end. I know all has seemed unconquerable for a long time... I know it is difficult to keep your head up... but do not comply, do not surrender... do not listen when rain whispers of neverding sorrows... if there was ever time for ‘civil disobedience’ it is now, I guess. Let’s make a revolution.
I revolt with all will power I have left against haunting cartoon clouds which indulge in stalking! There is no place for this phenomenon in the real world... not even in the fantasy one!
So I write...
The story.
