Fragrance (novel) [51]
Pr. Dr. Dorin Octavian Picioruș
Fragrance
(novel)
*
Why make his vice a personage?! Maybe he can’t stand himself smoking either. He can’t stand without and feels the nausea of stinking up our air. And when he was fired, all he thought about was his pride, how they threw away 35 years of his life. After a few minutes, the real bitterness set in, as well as the fear for his home, his family, his future. He couldn’t get over the shock, just as water, seemingly endless, cannot be dislocated by sight alone. And no, outrightly no, I don’t agree that a book is good if it’s merchantable, because that would mean that people are for sale too. We sell, we sell ourselves easily, but that doesn’t mean we’re for sale. There’s nothing to buy! And when he valued his painting too little and later showed it to him in the company of other paintings he had bought, he understood that the american had taken it from him as a bargain and that this shouldn’t have happened. And that the respect comes when you ask for a lot, when you truly valorize yourself. But I don’t like auctions! Because I don’t like the imprecision. You never know who will buy the artwork and that indisposes me. How indisposes me the winning horse at the races or the lottery draw where you never win, but you hope. Why wait and not know everything in advance? The two young women wanted to steal the test results from the Professor’s office. So that they don’t have any unknown.
But if you knew in advance who you were falling in love with, what would be the joy? And if, before you ate, you knew how good it would be, wouldn’t this knowledge spoil the joy of eating? The leap proposed by the doctor was to admit that you have a door in front of your mouth. That there is a door that you don’t have to open, but enter through it. He would submerge them in water so that they could see the door, but it was on the surface, painted on the wall. And the young woman, looking at the phone, began to cry loudly. We let her experience her pain, which we don’t know what kind it was. We assumed, as we always do, that her drama was hers alone and had nothing to do with us. The painted door was a wooden one, a matte blue with some black signs on it. It was lit from above, but, from the water, it was green, because the water was stagnant, in which small fish lived. The patients did not know what to do, how to enter through the door painted on the wall. The one who entered it with his head and, obviously, fainted, woke up on a hospital bed, surrounded by everyone and applauded, because he had passed beyond. And this beyond meant precisely the awakening from fainting, from the fainting of entering like a bull into a wall. I mean in the door. For the doctor sought to understand why his patients could not overcome their own internal blockages. And this impossible door had to be defeated from the outside, but also from the inside at the same time. But, of course, the victory was internal, because the patient understood that he had left his fear behind, that it was all a straw fear and that it did not matter. What was, was. Now, if I feel better, if the morning makes me see the horizon, I no longer must feel the proximity, because I can see far away.
The learners head to the School with the indifference between their ears. The pensioner got off the bus with all her luggage, because she was coming from the girl. She also helps her with raising the child, because that’s how it is when you’re a grandmother: you should care. It should even hurt you. And what’s the difference between an old woman and a pensioner? A very special one, full of confidence: the pensioner does what she wants with her pension, because that’s what she worked for, while the old woman, although she worked all her life in the yard, along with everyone else, doesn’t receive gifts from anyone. It’s enough that they don’t kick her out of the yard…The pensioner with a large pension is „herself” and says it with a specific arrogance. Her husband died, because he drinks a lot, and now she’s living her second youth. She takes what she wants, what she needs. She has, she can, she can afford. And when she wants, not always, she also gives to her grandchildren or children, but in moderation, so that they don’t take it to their head. Because the excited young man wants to be mature as quickly as possible, to burn the stages. The old man, afraid of death, who avoids it with all his might, seeks joys that will keep him young. Because money, at any age, gives you the impetus of freedom, of the joy of being on your own two feet. Because, look, I’m going, I can enjoy everything! But who can you enjoy with, when you lack the real communion with someone?