The last but one cut*

by Alina Shalukhina March. 17, 2019 272 views

They say if you look at a sheet of paper, colored in the way that it becomes similar to an ongoing nascent flow of paint, successively existing in every hue, from the very light tones to the darkest ones, you will probably detect no striking difference between the two extremities of the color. The continuous stripe will be perceived as homogeneous and whole. But in order to enable yourself to see the difference, it would be enough just to cut out the middle part of the sheet and contrast the light and dark edges. And you would gain the ability to see, to see with the poetical flavor of this sense, see distantly, having understood something more than you could suppose in yourself. We need this distance to get into the sense of things. We need the space to turn our heads as if we were about to cross the road: to look to the left, to look to the right. We need a cut to stop the time and carve some space in the wall of misunderstanding. We need a tool to see whereas glasses can no longer help us.

It's no use cutting long-dead grass with the steel blades of scissors. The dead grass makes no sense and change in human lives. But to take a break and a breath is never in vain. To stop, to recall who you are, to fail this task and come back. And to find your soul peaceful and reassured. Goodness, how amazing: to slow down and appreciate.

*not the final one.

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