Trafika Europe 13 - Russian Ballet

Between We

Every sadness – is a mystery, but not every mystery is a sadness. But there is a sadness that permeates everything – the distant rattling of wheels and the unhurried movements of a mouse over a pillow, letters and flowers. Such a sadness is no longer a mystery, because it is an answer to everything. And what is that? Sadness, also sadness. And sadness is that water which everywhere finds its way. The sea above the dyke. If you leave but only a crack, it will flood in. And a crack will be found everywhere – the dyke is long, and it goes against the rules of the game to ask for help. And if you are vigilant and plug it up – it will find another tiny hole, there, where a hand can’t reach in damming up that other, first one. A sea of sadness – is in the vicinity of Holland, the North Sea. With its fogs, oily sheen, water of the Rheine, that had flowed past the rock of the Lorelei. There is no ocean of sadness – the ocean embraces all – but the sea is fenced off by islands – England, origin of the flat, white-brown stone from the planet’s edge presented by Lady Olga. But islands are a fence full of holes, and the water continues to pour in. From the north – an icy sadness, from the east – an amber one, from Königsberg city of kings. From the west – a greenish, tepid duckweed of the Sargasso Sea, stopping ships in their tracks, teeming with transparent fish, which will later turn into snakes and return back, into sadness. Do not demand clarity from anyone, simply stand nearby

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