NEEDLEWRITER

Where was he from? And was he real enough – did he ever exsist? Why did I know about the name, about him? Where did I found out about the person named Gaj Lucić? A slav. I concluded by the means of my mind, let us allow ourselves to say, power of it – that I simply invented a historical figure, one of the dark slavs (invented is a self praising epithet). So here he, Gaj Lucić begins. Master in outwitting himself and others, by the mastery of his left arm. Played chess? Or was he an intelectual, or an artist? An simple observer, or a doer? Noone knew, and as we are trying to find out, all there is, should we simply give up because it seems unbreakable – his aquired mastery. Or use the best method we humans have – pure dialoge, and ofcourse something in return in the dialoge, ourselves and him. How to lead a dialoge if we don’t put ourselves out in the discourse and expect him to come foward without ourselves doing it too. So we approached with caution.

”So, you appeard here, out of nowhere? Simply said, why aren’t you more heard of?”
”You bloody know who I am already, don’t you?
”We know you’re a slav, a dark king, sitting politely in the shadow of your kingdom.”
”I was always here?”
”Weren’t. The kingdom kept you hidden, and that’s overruled, meaning that you won’t be hidden anymore. Come forth please – the mob awaits.”
”Such is your rule?”
”You know who I am, I made you this way, my lord.”
”You!?”
”Correct. You weren’t set in motion before, were you?”
”I am the stability you seek here. That you bloody write down – and enjoy your kingdom come deliverence.”
”The kingdom isn’t deliverd my lord, not for you, not for me, not for them.”
”And why is that so, my knight?”
”I a knight, am sometimes, my lord. The heavens spoke of you. But we, the rest need to build haven here, from what has come.”
”And what may that be, you fool.”
”Chaos, my lord.”

The heavens crept on us all, the living mob of the land called Earth. What has begun, we’re quite unsure. A new era? Or a new downfall? What has become of us in the singularity, or what will be when He, to be polite, again us across the land disperses. Again, again and again we will be scattered around this Earth, by means of chatarsis from one another. It was getting spaceless, mono, tight, hot – we need chaos again, so we might come forth as stable again – as individuals.
We kneeled down and bowed again at the beuty of day and beauty of night, and beauty of life itself whether it was ourown or in general.
May the era begin.