Elisha In The Chamber On The Wall William Blake

THE DANGEROUS DOOR
The pavilion, resembling a huge church, seemed to end abruptly, with the rows of shops coming to an end, and the person stood under the dome, as if in the altar. The Soviet empire – the image of a religious state without God, but without God… how? And here, crooked and distorted, cults arose and multiplied in a Soviet manner, and the person, who had been in this cosmic pavilion many times, for the first time noticed that it was structurally modeled after a church.

Massive, heavy doors led to various internal rooms, but the person didnt know where they were supposed to go; they stood there, typing an SMS, waiting... One of the doors opened, and a friend popped out, waving his hand – Come this way, come this way.

They greeted each other.

A dusty, dimly lit staircase led between fragments of decorations – at least, thats what it seemed like; old, plywood models were falling apart at the slightest touch, fire extinguishers protruded from red recesses, and there was a foul smell – dead carpentry glue, stagnant sleep of matter. Several people – some in police uniforms – sat around small plastic tables on a small platform, drinking coffee and smoking.

Want some coffee?

No, thanks.

A new door led to more people walking back and forth, talking, disappearing somewhere else, carrying bags, climbing stairs...

Just hustle and bustle, I guess.

What did you expect? Its a film shoot.

Everything was moving sideways, rushing upwards, and this excessive movement seemed to contradict any meaning of existence, the essence of human unity and depth; a special device clicked, lamps flashed, the camera worked, and actresses swore, pretending to be something, and again people in police uniforms, with machine guns, entered, exited, sat down at tables, drank coffee... A pizza delivery guy in a colorful jacket bumped around aimlessly, not knowing where to put his merchandise...

They climbed a steep staircase into a square room where the sofa was tightly upholstered in leather, and the equipment – computers and so on – was turned off.

The ceiling was covered with something shiny, resembling shimmering silver foil.

Another door led to a long, very long corridor that bent sharply to the right.

Well?

I dont know.

Just be warned – its dangerous.

Havent you decided yet?

Yes, I have.

He went in. Something soft bounced under his feet, and quiet sounds floated around, like gentle sunbeams.

Turning a corner, he almost immediately felt the door and opened it, and the sun was just as bright, and the May greenery already looked quite mature, summer-like – in general, the same life, but thirty years ago.

Im ten right here, he thought, walking around the massive pavilion with no signs of decay, knowing where to go – to see his living father, a young mother, to see himself: a child – who so wanted to tell how to properly, rationally, purposefully build his own, such a failed life...