Our Beautiful HandsMay 12, 2017 12:43 pm
They say that when someone dies, their teeth become golden. All the teeth and their roots. The same applies to the gums, to the tongue as well – and the deposits of gold are nothing but concentrated teeth and tongues. That is the necklaces and the chains and our rings are made of dead people and, to give an example, approximately three tongues and twelve teeth are needed to make a good bracelet. They say that when someone dies, the first thing they do is to change clothes. To take off the clothes they were buried in and to wear other, more durable ones.
They say that the dead live between the lithosphere and the asthenosphere; that there is a world up there, with living people, who are afraid of the moment they will die and a world, down there, with dead ones, who are afraid of the moment they will come back to life and their arms will first emerge from the ground and then, slowly, they will come once again out, on earth.
Some say that the dead for whom their living relatives and friends and colleagues are most sorry, are the strongest ones. They are higher ranked. When her husband died, she did not re-marry and she frequently thought of him and she wouldn‘t eat and she would only stay in bed, lying there, crying. This is why her husband is, down there, something very important. She says that he is a chief, a director or that he has a very important position. Had she found a new man and loved him as much as she loved the
dead one or even more, then the dead husband would immediately become something unimportant. A soldier or a low-rank clerk, with no responsibilities, or a thief. This is why the highest-rank positions are held by children. Because it is for them that the living are most sorry.
They say that the character of the dead resembles more or less that of the living. That there are, so to speak, egotistic dead, unreliable dead, naif dead, rude dead and uncompromising dead. They say that a dead may become a guide only if he or she wants it and after a series of ordeals which last for many months. It is a hard job, for which one has to be knowledgeable and able to concentrate and to possess good eyesight, for the darkness is deep and the conditions very difficult.
Some say that only the hands are cold down there. This is why when they come up, the first thing they take out, on the surface of the earth, is the hand, with its fingers stretched out at the beginning and then bent, as if they where clasping something. Only the hands are cold down there.
Once I heard a dead and a living talk to each-other. “I only wish to know what had happened to my shoes, the ones with the laces,” said the dead. “I wear them once in a while and go for a walk,” replied the living. “Yes, but tell me also, what did you do with my dogs, my two dogs,” asked then the dead. “I keep them in my balcony and feed them every day and give them water,” said the living. “Do you give water to both of them?”, asked the dead. And the living replied, “Not to both of them. Only to one of them – the other is a useless dog. I do not feed him and he does not dare to eat the food of the good dog. Because of his hunger, sometimes he eats the flowers in the pots of the veranda. I do not take them out to run because I do not want to loose them and I do not want them to be hit by a car. They sometimes run and crush on the veranda table and get scratched by the iron parts of it and they, then, sit and lick the bleeding wounds. I have bought leashes for them; new, leather ones that cannot be cut, no matter how hard one may try. If they ever die of kalazar or of any other disease, I have decided that I will bury both, together, next to your grave”. Then, the dead turned around and started walking away and shouted from afar, “Not together. Bury just the good one. The calm one. Let the other be devoured by the birds and the cats”.
Here. A man with brown hair stands on a bridge; he has his arm around a woman and his foot on a big stone, so that his knee shapes a ninety degree angle. His other hand is in the pocket of his jacket. Here. Another man sits at his desk and wears his medical jacket; and behind, on the wall, one sees his diploma; and his arms are crossed. In the pocket of his jacket on may discern the upper part of a pen. Here. A woman with a dark blue swimsuit is standing in the sea, the water is up to her belly and, round her neck, she is wearing a silver chain. Here. Another man is wearing a sweater, a woolen one, a dark one, and he smiles. The hair are now yellow -they used to be light brown, though. The hands are now light blue while, before, they used to be pink. The medical jacket has become yellow, though it used to be white. The swimsuit is now light green -it used to be blue. The sweater is white -it used to be dark. And if someone says that he knew this man well and that it is indeed weird that his hands are light blue, while they used to be pink, then I would answer him that this is not weird at all and that it is the sun that is responsible for all of this. And if he did not believe me, I would show him my father. “Look”, I would say to him, “my father used to be pink as well and he is now yellow and brown and black and green”.
This post was written by sherlockth