“Afterwards she sat on the floor. Sad and breathless. She looked at him in the eyes. “What do you think of men, Yon?” she asked him. There was a long silence. Sunk in his thoughts, he contemplated the August night sky through the window. Finally he answered, somewhat slowly and placidly, without looking into her eyes. He was trying to evade them. “I think they are altogether too dumb”, he sighed. “I dunno… all people are, in essence, dumb. Many things are created not to evoke anything in us, but to just pass by without having any sublime meaning. Knowledge and meaning, unlike wine, can be beautiful when sublime. They don’t overflow and ooze away, they don’t make you feel sick and hungover. I don’t know whether the essence of men, and women as well, is to just screw and make babies. I don’t know if it is in their essence to hate themselves, either. Both men and women together”. He smiled. “The women I know, they always go for the big ones. That’s what I call them – big ones. They are turned on by jazz musicians, intellectuals, rich men, successful, famous, sportsmen. Always the big guys. Everything else is easy come, easy go. Give the small guy a chance, I say, you know? We never succeed. The world operates upon a well-known principle. The men I know are drawn to and are mad for runway type of cunts. It’s one and the same thing, they go for each other, they are doing something insincere. Maybe I’m saying this because I hate them. I don’t know. Nobody knows us, aren’t you afraid of that? Kuzman says that everything in this world will be covered by dust and oblivion. And he’s right. Then why would all this matter? Why would my opinion on men and women matter? We may as well be sincere and go for the smaller folk. The unknown. I am the language of the insubstantial, a language that is dying out. Similarly, you are a ballerina that will never be seen on stage. I don’t know what I’m talking about, Sandra”.
“That’s not the issue. You’re going off the topic, that’s the problem. I asked you what you thought of men”, she said, a bit angrily now.
“Fine, if you so insist”, he said. “I think they will never enter the woman deep enough. At least not as deep enough as to see what the woman they’re entering with their dicks really is. We are bodies. Fragile and tearable. Our soul, however, is not glued to us. It wanders. Or maybe it is in the pupils of our eyes. Or down there, maybe, in the orifice of the vagina or the penis. Who knows? There’s nothing further than this body. There are no hearts. They are buried. All that’s left are the voices, the words, the sounds. Speech. Silence. It also exists. The unimaginable cannot be imagined. That’s why it doesn’t exist. That’s why we don’t know what that which doesn’t exist is. That’s why all we can imagine is present here and now. Everything exists. Before it exists. Including men and women. And babies. And the humus mouth that eats them. Faces. And that’s it. Faces and sexual organs, just that, and a little faith”, he said and stopped for a moment, continuing after a gulp. “The difference between man and woman is just a sex organ longer. The difference between a man and a man is the same as the one between two erections. Everything else is shallow”.”
Translated by: Igor Popovski
This post is also available in: Macedonian
