Letter from E. to Vladimir

by Diana Voinea


Quiet and meaningless as wind in dry grass

Dear Vladimir,

There we are.
Here I am.
Nothing to be done.

Life’s vicissitudes have proven to be quite unbearable for my poor feet and me. I am standing next to a ditch, waiting. Nothing changed. It is you who is not anymore. Come to think of it, I somehow missed waiting. These days have been so hectic and I barely got the time to breathe, always on the run and busy. I am an actor now, you know. It may sound strange to you, as I would always say that people are ignorant apes. I am the same misanthrope, my dear Vladimir, I can only assume that I am cured of my madness. Came instead the cold and piercing lucidity.

I must confess that it turned out to be of great difficulty to break away from you, and the moment we left that deserted street, that godforsaken crossroads, with the weeping willow that stopped weeping, each of us on his way threw me in an even more uncertain incertitude. Nothing is certain. Nothing is certain – that is how I would begin my day, looking in the mirror and repeating this line until total depersonalization. My attention, then, would fall on something and my whole being would cling to that thing, to the point that nothing would be uncertain anymore. I must think I finally found something to give me the impression I exist. Have I?

Nothing to be done. Nothing happens, nobody comes, nobody goes. The awfulness of it. Space is round and movement restores the circle. But it’s the circle of life! It would have been a goddamn bad idea to hang ourselves. (Would it?) Don’t let’s just do anything, Vladi, it’s always safer. Movement has always been my instinct. I have now the uncertain stability of this reality I’ve thrown myself in. Space is filled. Our enfolded silence that was like an echo is inhabited now by rustles and voices and whispers and cries. I am the Voice now, I am the Truth, I am the Essence and the Form, I, I, I and only I, my dear Vladimir, am G. now. Am I?



I am nobody and I am learning peacefulness. Why stay and wait for him? Why not go look for him? This is what I did, Vladimir. I left to look for him. And I still cannot find Him.



I slowly feel the pulse of things, I sniff it, I have all the time in the world. Slowly - all my life in front of me. I suck all the sounds, I suck them slowly, my whole life in front of me. There’s no need to lock myself, anymore. I have all the time. I taste life. I laugh in my fists. I don’t think anymore I know things. No need to count anymore. I AM, I have all the time. I AM, slowly. I flow against the flow. I am not tired anymore. I dream no more. I am the dream of someone else.

Silence. Nothing to be done.

It if of great importance to go to sleep earlier in order to cry, otherwise we’d be devastated. Fatigue – the fatigue of this world, universal fatigue, the enmity! I am afraid – sometimes it’s the dark, sometimes the humming. Listen. I bring you the humming of Death. You turned off all my lamps. The air is void now. If only you knew… how sweet it was to enter the dark with you by my side. Watch me! I am the shadow of a shadow that flattened. Empty, empty, the angst, the movement of the Being.

I am a lonely mast on the sea. I am the willow that stopped weeping.

E.