Trafika Europe 13 - Russian Ballet

Svyatoslav Loginov

so as to have at least one point of reference in the surrounding outrageousness. He counted off ten steps, turned around. The marker was still clearly visible, but one could already see that it would soon dissolve in the haze. At least one quality of this world had been identified, but it opened up rather limited possibilities. Certainly he could poke this outrageousness full of sticks, but would it make the place any more comfortable, or cause people to appear? Man is a social animal, and right now Ilya Ilych would have felt better in fire and brimstone, as long as it was in good company. Perhaps this is an illusion after all? Ilya Ilych poked his fist into his right side, expecting a burst of pain. Nothing… as in, nothing at all, he had the liver of a twenty-year- old. If this is hell, it’s indeed a strange one. Hell does not suppose a reduction in suffering. Ilya Ilych counted off another four dozen steps, stuck in the second pole, and sat down nearby. – Who is to say I haven’t got neither stick nor stead 2 now? I’ve got the stick, and there is the stead, no end in sight… The joke didn’t do much for his mood. The initial shock had worn off, as did the sense of excitement from exploring the surrounding… no, not reality... mirage, perhaps. It was down to brass tacks now. His senses were exhausted by the lack of color, sound, tactile feedback. 2 Word play: in Russian, having “neither stick nor stead” [ni kola ni dvora] is an expression roughly equivalent to “not a penny to one’s name” in English.

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