i.j. Pino (Pino Ivančić) / ...Collages...

Hm, otherwise… what?

Somewhere between the two survivals, when the time feeded not bited off.

Behind me the footprints were writing the story on the lightly red ground endlessly, and in front…. Oh, yes…. In front of me, somewhat sad, but still courageous and untouchable; above it all; the head as big as the mountain stretched around. Yes, head! It seemed – human or giant… I searched for the mean to circumvent it, but there wasn’t a way – it was spread on all the sides.To cross above the head seemed equally unattainable, because the tip of the nose was far in the green clouds. What to do now?

I didn’t move, but as if some invisible production designer changed the scenery just like that, in the blink of the eye. My confusion and wonder by this phenomenon was brief, because the space I have found myself was continuously fascinating all my senses. The endless hallways on all sides… Mild light was weaving irregularly on the smooth, wet walls, and the red mist was ankle-high around my feet. How have I found myself here?

The instant I have thought about it, the same thing happened again. The space around me has changed again. This time the change wasn’t drastic. All was there – the light, the wet walls and red mist, but I was deeper in that space. I was in one of the corridors. It seemed that my questions open the doors of this world and throw me deeper into it. How will I ever get out of it? POOF! At once there wasn’t anything. In all directions there was only white light. I sat on the cloud and dived in the confusion of my thoughts. This is the world which rules I don’t know. Here rule the other laws. If I ask myself only one question more… No! I must think only in declarative sentences, otherwise… Hm, otherwise what?

Life’s (non)opportunities.

The place where I am is in the center of the world, in the starting point from which the universe spreads – in the center of everything and nothing… Here, all of it began, the first beings, first ideas that were dripping on the head as drops of water from the broken tap, the first emotions and first births. This place is uterus of everything that exists, but dried, barren – forgot… The former essence of everything, nowadays only the empty shell. The exception to the rule that crouches in the heart of leftovers and writes these lines. I could abandon this forgotten spring long ago as many (all) of others before me, but something keeps me. The quarter of the time I am here has passed. I am used to the cracked tendons, sometimes full of water of life, but today, and tomorrow and forever only full of memories. If I go, the memories will disappear, the aswers to all the question marks of universe will disappear – the meaning will disappear.
I could start a new life, drown in the mass and let the time destroy that which have started, but… I don’t know; if I go, I will share the happy ignorance with other “sheeps” on the endless chaotic pastures… To live or to dream, is my dilemma. If I go those two words will merge in one and… One sweltering afternoon, one of those seemingly insignificant days, the inevitable has happened – the huge herbivore has accidentally stepped on the small abandoned anthill, or at leas seemingly abandoned…

That what we are, are after all, or life’s (opportunities) or (non-opportunities).

Ivan Kraljević