kagablog

Pierre had pondered a lot about death these last few days. In fact a tone of sex and death permeated his existence. He was preparing to leave Riga, like a Steppenwolf packing his bags. He spent his last evening in Latvia in Jurmala, the tourist resort north of the Riga. As the day finished, he walked along the beach with its unearthly blue waves. He strolled into the town at dusk. It had a cool breeze blowing through it, giving it a wind-swept ambience. He ate at a table outside on the promenade and listened to a cheesy band playing Judo-Russian classics. He felt clean, as if the breeze had blown away his old thoughts.
He smoked a cigarette and listened to that wind. An eclipse from the straightjacket of time.

His clothes were quite dirty and ragged by this point, as they always are when you are travelling the way he had been travelling for the last months. His shoes had holes worn through their soles, and he was forced to put cardboard in them. It was time to leave.

When he returned back to the apartment he was dead tired, but still he got on his feet and went out to the city’s centre for a couple hours since it was his last night. It was a kind of prayer, a way of paying homage. He watched the hookers. The nouveau riche in their convertibles drinking bottles of champagne, laughing loudly and looking like they came out of Fellini´s La Dolce Vita.

The next afternoon he took the bus. He fell asleep quickly and was awakened at the Polish border. It was towards the day’s end. The asphalt gleamed gold and pink. In the sylvan distance were the emerald coloured forests, soft with a kind of purple misty silence. It was the time of the day when the faces on the bus glowed with a dark orange light, which somehow blurs out all traces of modernity. For these few moments eternity would win. It emits a primeval quality, something stronger than the torch of man. An atmosphere which is suspended, which is somehow visceral. Such a sacred vision was the true blood of this world.

He had passed so many borders, and each one was like stepping on the tail of some dormant dragon.

All this hopeless hoping. Better to kill it without mercy.