Trafika Europe 7 - Ukrainian Prayer

Two Tales

So that God forbid I wouldn’t stink of horse. It might happen that I could start to stink of horse. But that’s not such a deadly stench. I have to even admit that I love the odor of a horse. It’s pleasant. But when it’s equine, and not human. A human smells of a human, humanity, humanness. If I suddenly began to stink of horse, then a lot of my friends would instantly recoil from me. At first they would show their disgust, but all the same later they wouldn’t be able to deal with it. I understand – it’s difficult to deal with that. First of all, it’s hard to conceive that for someone whom you have known since childhood a tail suddenly appears, and not just any kind, but a horse’s. I think that of all the tails out there, the horse’s is the

best. The most elegant. Lord, make it so, for me to grow a real horse’s tail! One that I could move the way I move my legs and arms, sometimes consciously, sometimes unconsciously, well, the way it is with legs and arms. I understand the degree to which my desire is unnatural. Because I could desire something different, something more human. Money, eternal love, grateful children, good neighbors, the respect of society, maybe even the recognition of society – fame. But no. I don’t want any such thing, though I don’t have it. I want a tail. When I was little I often thought that it’ll grow out of my tailbone, and it seemed that it, like a hump on my back, was growing bigger. At six I hit my tailbone against

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