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Tanya Maliarchuk
similar. Something that you
can’t explain, can’t incite in
any way. It can’t be repeated.
Because miracles do not
repeat, they exist only in
singularity.
Yes, so let this be my quirk.
But better for me to have
this kind of quirk than for
me to become some kind of
maniac, a zu-chi pedophile.
My quirk isn’t socially
dangerous. I’ll never hurt
anyone with my tail, except
the brazen autumn flies. Or
the nasty summer gadflies.
Besides that, no one else.
Maybe me. People will recoil
from me. Hardly will anyone
want to marry me with a tail.
It’d be complicated. Even
less improbable than now
when I don’t have a tail. I’ll
live with my tail in solitude
and in joy. But I want that
myself. No one forced me to
want to have a tail. No one
had undue influence on me.
I decided I wanted the tail
on my own. I already can’t
remember exactly when that
was now.
Believe me, it would be a lot
simpler to live with a tail. You
could sweep the crumbs from
the table, cobwebs from the
walls, autumn leaves from
the asphalt. In the summer
you could cool yourself off
like a fan. In the winter it
would warm you.
Sometimes it seems to me
that it’s already grown. In a
dream. I wake up, feel myself
all over – and continue to
believe it. I keep on believing.
Quite strongly. And it’s all the
same to me if anyone doesn’t
respect me for this. Because
I’m not causing anyone any
harm. I just want to have a
tail.
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