I saw the bright outlines of a woman. Then the golden bees. They flew onto my body, one by one. I was soon covered with them all over. They were buzzing, humming, fidgeting on my skin, at work. When the glowing woman nodded, they moved. Between them there was nothing but air. I was the… Continue reading Sixty-One
I was with a great crowd in an arena or concert hall. They had their hands in the air, enjoying themselves. On top of the crowd, there was a faint, bluish light. It slowly turned red and thickened into a fog. It felt heavy and dangerous. Something in its shape and the way it moved… Continue reading Fifty-Eight
The sky was a sea, and there were fish flying above me. And a golden liquid thread was drawing bees into the air. I could feel the wind on my skin, sometimes warm, sometimes cool, gently pulsating. And I heard the Siberian man say: "People can be so unconscious, so diffused and diluted, they expand… Continue reading Forty-Seven
I was at the seaside. The water took the form of a woman, just like me. She approached, smiling. We held hands, staring into each other. And she fell back into the sea. Then came the Siberian man, wearing a mantle decorated with translucent-golden bee wings. "But aren't bees feminine?" - I asked him. He… Continue reading Thirty-Seven
It was very dark, I was under the sea. I glimpsed at some lines running, they were contained by a transparent pipe, like communications cables. Then I spotted a pair of feet in the sand, on the beach, slowly washed by the sea. They must have belonged to a very old woman, but I could… Continue reading Thirty-Five
I was by the frozen lake with the Siberian man. We were just standing there, staring into each other's eyes. Suddenly, he seemed familiar. At that instant, I flashed back to the Asian man in my childhood - had they known about him, adults would have called him an "imaginary friend". At the time, I… Continue reading Twenty-Nine
I tried not to go numb, but it hurt. I was chasing after the numbness, trying to catch it within my head. Suddenly, I was in a snowstorm, at night, in the middle of endless plains, chasing a figure wearing a white fur coat.
- "Why do I have to witness all this?" - I asked her. - "There are thousands of pasts, and thousands of futures. They all have to meet at one point, in one single present, even if only for a moment, to become conscious. My bees are all such junctures, such meeting points... I'm sorry, my little bee, I am so sorry that it hurts." - "But what is consciousness? And why does it matter?"
We started to fly upwards, spiralling around the tree; higher and higher, until we felt surrounded by water, as if diving. But it was calm only for a minute, then we started to whirl, and we were rocking more and more fiercely... suddenly, we found ourselves in a large boat or ship. The old woman was sitting there, waiting for us.
I was lying on my back, staring at the sky above me. I saw some spots of light shooting by, they looked like fireflies, except the bee who was flying very close to me. Then I realized they were not fireflies but stars, and that even though it felt like we were hardly moving at all, we were in fact gliding so fast the stars seemed to leave a trail on our breaths...