NOW - 22.02.18 - Footprints and skis

I was waiting so much for the snow
It came in the night. Probably.
Quickly and a lot.
I dressed, ran to the park and dashed towards the café crunching the whiteness under my feet
After a hundred meters I turned around and froze
The black chain of footprints resembled a hieroglyph from an unknown language
I had turned on time
The hieroglyph was complete
Carefully stepping in my own tracks, I went back to the start
Standing there I’m smiling, but my heart is pounding wildly
I can’t go sideways - it’s a one way path
I’ve already walked through it – you can’t do it twice
And I can’t return home – that’s how old age is calling
The day was getting lighter. My feet were freezing. I didn’t move
A powerful burning in my groin spoke, told me me that the hieroglyph knew about me and was made not by footprints but a trail of black kisses.
I rang Renat. He is an actor – he understood everything.
In an hour he was there with a pair of skis
“These are old. You can have them”
He threw them to me to avoid coming too near and getting into something he would never be able to forget, then modestly left
And I glued the metronome of footprints together with ski tracks
It was just very important for me, that these two lines became a long “==” sign
I left the skis at the end of the trail and springing like a hare leapt off to the café.

The day begins from nothing.

Text: Anton Adasinsky
English text editor: David Kemp
Photos: Katja Pietrusky