Why are you around?...

There are always people around us. Wheter they are the school clique of idiots or our friends that we adore, they are undoubtedly around us. Like the Sun and stars around. Uhh, sounds too romantic.
Think.
Who comes to your mind first?
You mum.
Your beloved.
Your what?
So, have you asked yourself the question why are these people round? Do we deserve their natural presence in our life? Even the smelly idiot sitting next to you in the bus everyday is naturally situated there by a random universal power.

But                                                                                         WHY?

There are numerous question about this mysterious phenomenon. I wonder if we are all in the same dimension sometimes. Are we meant to meet here and now? Are we meant to become friends? Why are you then walking the opposite direction to the cafe today, mate? Are you here and now? Do you see me or is the Universe an obstacle?

Is there a mistique barrier that we can't see through? There are so many people in our lives and, in the same time, so many that we won't ever know... We won't be able to feel those around.

Is it real guys?
Is it real that all of us live in different shades and just pass by,  never knowing what we slipped through that lazy break?
If it is the Universe that divides us, why does it care so much? It is already a whole huge bag of different colours and people and emotions and everything. It is a balanced mess.
Does it stop us from being here and now for the sake of being somewhere there one day?

Величината

   Седяха двама във влака. Говореха, говореха, говореха. И да, говореха. Инда и Линида. Звучат странно; да бе, знам. Та Инда гледаше Линида. И замлъкнаха, Е, помълчаха си за малко. Линида гледаше през широкия прозорец, дето влака щедро предоставяше на всеки пътник; безкористно, по всяко време. И тя зяпаше. Червените щръкове покрай релсовата линия. Инда се чудеше какво ли прави там самотен онзи хълм. Освен да си е хълм, какъв ли щеше да е, ако беше човек? Щеше ли да мърда оживено на съседната седалка или щеше да седи както сега - тихо и достойно.
    Не говореха. Мълчаха. За минута - две, не повече.

- Какви са електроните по същността си - първите или антипървите частици?

   Тишината си седеше лениво там.
   Линида се обърна и го зяпнна. Тихо и умислено беше.

 - Не знам.

   Инда обясни защо се чуди. Браво. Добре. Пак стана тихо.

- Науката дефинира всичко, нали?

- Опитва се.

- Защо?

- Защото нещата се повтарят и е хубаво някой да ги запише.

- Тишината повтаря ли се?

- Еее.. Не знам.

- Не, не се повтаря, мисля. Тишината е сега и е специална. Тишината не чака повторението, тя го предизвиква.

- Тишината е наука. Тишината е нетрептящата вълна от въздуха, от материята.

- Да бе, ясно. В един филм, обаче, казаха за науката, че ако нещо се повтаряло, някой трябвало да го наблюдава и да забележи закономерност. Каква закономерност има в тишината?

- Тишината се появява в сравнително едни и същи ситуации..

- Но не значи едно и също.

- Хората я усещат по приблизително еднакъв начин.

- Не можеш да знаеш какво усещат хората.

- Напротив.

- Добре.

Спогледаха се.

- Добре де, ако тишината е величина, каква ще й е мерната единица? Секунди, думи, спомени, докосвания, какво?

   Инда се замисли. Честно, имаше известна доза мнителност в теорията... Наистина.

- Все още не знам.

- Научи.

- Как?

- С опит.

- Опитът може ли да е мерна единица?

- Твърде относителна би била такава мерна единица...

- Е, то науката е относителна... Понятията поне.

- Тогава как нещо относително ще дефинира друга относителност?

- Каква друга относителност?

- Животът.

- Е... Да. Странно е. Ама кой пък друг ще може да постави някакви повтарящи се модели?

- Няма такива модели, има статистически принцип на вероятностите, който хората следват.

- Мамка му.

- Добре.
 
     Тишина.
     Инда и Линида се гледаха.
     Влакът спря.
     Те слязоха.

- Относително тишината се измерва в чувства.

- Значи така било...

The Zodiac Prejudice: The Railways ( Part 3 )

I'm cold as a match 

Ready to strike...

- FF

Well, Maggie got to the station. Otherwise the story would've lost its sense. Sam was sitting on a bench, staring through his glasses. Maggie stopped for a second. She was curious to know. She wanted to see what he could see. What could he see through his eyes? How did he feel about it? What was amazing, astonishing, disappointing, sad, lithle, childish, remarkable, beautiful, intriguing? What did he see?

She went on, stumbled and stepped by his side. Taken aback,he looked at her for a second, then gazing in the nowhere ( again ) said:

"Have you noticed that railway lines wave in for certain length, then split and continue in two parallel lines?"

She looked at the far division.

"Yes, you are right," she blinked, "I haven't noticed."

"Sit " he smiled at her.

Further on, they talked about little things, big things, films and songs, bands and theoretical physics, literature and trivia awkwerdness. She calmed down. He was calm.

Then Maggie asked:

"Do you know that everything has a beginning but has an end too?"

They kept silence.

"You are not right. You need to change the sentence. You need to twist it for such an unfortunate truth deserves the solace of ostentatious beauty."

"And how should it sound?" Maggie asked.

"Rather... The beginning of an end is far less the value of the mean. What do you think?"

"Too complex. Complexity sucks."

"Ok, radical."

He gazed at the nothing again.

"What would you say about ... Between the beginning and the end is all we call impractical. Impractical is what matters."

Maggie feverishly looked for a hidden message that meant he did not like her. She failed to find it.

"Yes, I like it more that way."

Sam smiled and gazed at her face. This time his glasses were all in her direction. She could read them. At least, she decided to believe what she saw. She decided for once not to let strong sense overtake the beauty of probable illusion. She wanted to believe and so did she. Just let go and answered his gaze with a look full of simple complexity, beautiful anxiety and passive desire. 

Still looking at her eyes, Sam mumbled mumbled:

"So you share my lck of pragmatism?..."

She sighed a yes.

They kissed and continued tracing the railway lines and routes together.

What happened afterwards? I can't really give an answer to this question. It is not my story to follow it. Then Maggied and Sam followed the railways but today may be the beginning of an end... Or it could have been yesterday. That is how trivial life becomes unique to some - they need just to let go and quit planning. Others, though, need planning the next second or they quit life. The trivial ending is the perfect beginning of a story - it evokes the collision of simple and complex.

What more?!