Book: Bang-bang

If you convince a man that he is unremarkable biological mass, the instinct to life instantly weakens. But the desire for death, inherent in each of us gaining momentum. Then only a small push. The main thing is to make people believe that he is not special and is not one of a kind. This is the most difficult. If you only knew how people cling to this idea...

Watching her is like sitting in the smell of resin and fresh algae predrassvetniy a boat in the middle of the sea, to observe, both because of the hazy horizon comes up amber disk of the sun. Or he ascended to the top of the mountain, suddenly to see a small mountain lake with clear turquoise water, framed by rocks covered with dazzling white snow... And know that never again you will not see it.

She doesn't need to apologize. She could speak in the same voice something like: "usually, snow falls in winter," and I'd forgive her. She could carry any nonsense, and I never would be mad at her. As soon as I heard it once presented to her lips, almost touching the handset as she gently says, "it was an accident", I forgave.

Why are you silent? Because you're too beautiful, I think. Because thinking about you, I'm starting to hate my life. Because you're mountain lake by which I must pass and never look back.

We have long been dead. Behind the nothingness, the nothingness ahead. Is it worth to be taken seriously accidentally fallen on you the moment of being?

- You don't want to be normal?
- Of course not, ' she snorts. - For what? To death behind the counter to stand? "What have you been doing your whole life, Yuri? - Sold a cough drop". Cool!

... our picture of the world is wrong, that the thoughts that come to each of us at night - just the result of not a big failure in the program, written by someone unknown....
This is how it looks. Getting rid of issues on which there can be no answer. Because these questions and make us sick.

Two years ago, forced abandoning of the old life happy consumer, I found freedom. But freedom was not fairyland where the lucky ones happily sitting in the Lotus flowers and humming a simple mantra. Freedom - a tiny apartment where in the evenings the walls tremble. Freedom is a giant carnivorous rabbit, keeping watch for me outside. Freedom - a half-empty bottle of whiskey in his hand. Freedom - dumb question: "When will it all end?", in sleeplessness swollen eyes. Freedom - dead wife and born a daughter. My Lotus flower - a sagging armchair in a dark room.

We are doomed to go to the touch. And the only way to take a step forward, to choose a direction at random and convince yourself that it is correct.

The act of destruction and sexual intercourse - in fact one and the same. There you kill what to admire. Kill because I can't stand this admiration to make...

Didn't you ever want to chat about anything with a stranger? Conversations with loved ones - it's not... There you have to say what is expected of you. Communicating with the first person you finally can be yourself.

It is not excluded that all of us at the time of death become enlightened. There is no one who could disprove it.

When fired point-blank at the skin are traces of gunpowder. In a forehead I will have a neat hole, and the edges - the burnt powder gases skin. On the wall - red-grey BLOB with white bits of bone... the same kind of nail-art.
- How do you like that? she asks.
I have a Lotus flower, I say.

My every action is correct. And my every action will be incorrect. But only as long as I'm alive. In death we all become infallible. Have something to strive for...