Issue #95

Prison, Convent, Stairs, and Wave

by Vít Erban

translated by G.S. Evans

Prison

My captors are really very ordinary people. They are, just like me, sitting on a bench and looking into the distance toward the setting sun. Maybe it is a family, as the one sitting nearest me is still a kid. I would in no way say that they are dangerous terrorists whom I should fear. But then, after I realize that we don’t belong together, I take a couple of steps away and look in the opposite direction. Maybe because I don’t want to be one of them? Or because I want to protect my sense of freedom? It is an absolutely unique prison. A high, rocky plateau, not very expansive, that can be crossed in a few steps and with walls that are too sheer to climb. But nevertheless, nobody here impedes or follows me, and I have a view that is wide and far on all sides. I can, with my gaze, freely wander anywhere I want. Never before has the distance been so close at hand.

***

Convent

When I want to freely come and go, the nun tells me that yes, it is possible, only you have to carefully lock up behind you. It is in no way easy, but she shows me how it is done. We again pass through that neglected, perhaps no longer used, church, full of dust and stacked boards through which I entered the convent, and where a student choir is currently rehearsing. Ah, I say to myself, perhaps the public comes here too, so it must be periodically locked and unlocked. But I have a feeling of yearning because I myself no longer sing, and I would like to. Somebody tells me that the choir uses three mutated registers of the male voice. I don't know what that is, but perhaps it means that they have a truly rich and resonant polyphony. But now I follow my guide, who shows me a quite inconspicuous stump outside covered with a sheet of metal, where it is necessary on my return to insert the key and give it a turn. But that isn't all. The most important lock by far is the one located deep down in the throat. She shows me that you must, like so, open your mouth to declare "I surrender my soul to this place" – so that the throat opens properly and the key clicks into place there where it should. Only then is it truly locked. I understand it all well enough, but I don't even try because I already know that I can't do it.

***

Stairs

Now it is necessary to go from the castle to the settlement below, once again down those terrible stairs. Properly speaking, they are not even stairs, just paved-over steps, too tall and narrow to walk down. I carefully climb and lower myself down, leaning backwards so that I don't fall over and go tumbling down. I even have to carry the china, and so my hands are full and I can't hold on to anything. And already it has happened – a single plate has slipped out of my hand, the one from my childhood that I love so much, common, but with a pretty, red rim. I watch from above at how it bounces down the stairs, gaining both height and speed. With each step I worry that it will shatter and fly into pieces. But, surprisingly, it holds together and when it finally reaches the bottom it seems to be intact. "Nothing happened to it!" somebody calls out to me from below, picking it up and inspecting it on both sides. "It's only dinged a little in one place." And so, relieved that everything has turned out well, I continue my descent.

***

Wave

It seems that I am very high up. No sooner have I left the hotel than a view opens before me, showing a landscape of distant mountains, rivers, and cities spread out down below. I feel enthusiasm, pleasure, and a sense of freedom growing inside me. And so I walk on, keeping the view on my right side until the path disappears under the bend of the hill. And that hillside slowly changes into a tilting sea surface, and I launch myself down its slope, head first with arms outstretched. I speed downwards with the rippling waves, headlong, completely filled with the immensity of that mass of water, surging from horizon to horizon, I am the movement of its movement and the direction of its direction, in absolute faith and a giddy feeling of happiness. It may be one huge ocean wave that I am sliding down and merging with, but I know that no matter where I slide down to, it's enough to flap my arms and I will be up above again.