Heaven's Pixel

8/13/2019 Heaven's Pixel

1/27

HEAVEN'sPiXEL

by Var


2/27

~ 2 ~

Sophie Sophie, echoes my voice and gradually gets moreintense as I keep falling through the sky down on Tbilisi- the capital ofGeorgia. This country, famous for choir music and wine, hosts a widerange of extraordinarily beautiful women. One of them put me high upin the sky. And now like a bullet I stream down on Tbilisi with narrow

streets that weave into each other beneath the footsteps of proudlystanding old churches.

I scream,Sophie,as if it is the last word I want to pronouncebefore my heavy body smashes against the tar and breaks into pieces,leaving no sign of my existence on this planet. I wide open my mouthto catch some air in order to scream louder, because my clothes thatare fighting against the air, muffler my voice.

Now at the top of my lungs I scream, Sophieeeee, trying tohear what I am saying, to make myself aware that I am saying it andto realize why I am in the air. This time suddenly a memory flashes infront of my eyes, taking me to...

...Tunisia/discoa week earlierThe dance floor is filled with too many shadows coming from feet

of many kinds, which jump and swoop around as their owners move toecho the rhythm of heart-pumping Latino music.

One pair of particular feet, that are tightly wrapped in jeans,stand on platforms which slide back and fort, then from left to the

right as their owner throws her hips to the sides with elegant ease.Meanwhile her shoulders weave a chaotic zigzag in the air, catching upwith the rapid melody. A black T-shirt rests on them with a sign thatsays: GOOD girls go to Hell. So, Let's all Go to Amsterdam. From the T-shirt cut athin neck rises gently to unite with a face- what a face: a face thatspeaks with a story of an untold mystery. I watch her dance through acrowd of bodies that block my view: she moves like a fish standing onfeet. She gesticulates freely as if hers is the dance, and the music is inher.

The memories flash back:I keep falling. Tbilisi, sliced in halfby river Kur, welcomes me like a woman in a bathrobe where the riverline merges with the bathrobe gap.

Wait,I say to myself and stretch out my hands, trying to stopmy falling. Instead the air unbuttons my favorite white shirt that I amwearing, made out of thick cotton and leaves it levitating far behindme up in the air.


3/27

~ 3 ~

Now I fall topless. My nipples are crumpled into buttons and Ifeel as goose bumps line up all over my skin like a battalion ofunderground worriers that happily rise up to celebrate their time. Igesticulate like a madman, still unaware of what is happening.

Memories flash backagain at my face!

A heavily breathing chest is pressed against my chestlipssoaked in Martini searching for my lips...closed eyes - my busy handsholding her feet ...her perfume playing with my nosetheawareness of the moon reflection in the peaceful water surface of thenearby pool...the suddenly switched on lamp in the total darknessand the hotel employee, flashing his toothless stupid smile on us.What a......

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaa ! and heavy rock music fills the sky as Icut back to my heavy falling. But I crave for more.

No. Please. Stop it. Let me see more of it. Please.

Flash back:...I kiss her. Deeply. The empty corridor agrees withme. I should keep kissing, before she turns to head for the door. Whoknows, when I will ever get a chance like this. I bite her lips.

You like to bite,she smiles through her berried face.I smile back and press her even harder against my body. Only God isnot drunk now. And only he knows what is going on. But we keep

kissing. Back in my mind I know what this actually is. Another FLASHin memory takes me even more BACK........to...

...Tbilisi/ Office of the ***** BANK.My two friends and I are seating in a cozy sofa, reading

newspapers and waiting for our new unknown friends to arrive andmeet us.

The door opens and we stand up to hold the hands of those whojust walked in to greet us. Four hands stretch out in front of us. And I

start working them out - one, two, three, then I slow down with a "wowooo..." type of expression on my face.

I shake her hand and stare, meanwhile moving into her eyesand even deeper into her mind, trying to guess what she thinks aboutme.

Then we move to a general meeting - I still keep staring. Onehour later I am staring. Two hours later - my eyes are searching for


4/27

~ 4 ~

her. Three hours later - I am still staring. Staring, gazing, crystalstaring. Whatever! Four hours later it would be a lie to tell you that Iwas still staring because I was in fact washing down Georgian foodwith some good wine, but still back in my mind I was staring - now ather picture in my memory. These visions disappear with a flash back

as I loose my thought line to reset on the image of Tbilisi that isgetting closer and closer.

Now I am falling with a clearer picture in my mind about where itall started. I am unaware of how that understanding will make mylanding any softer, but I strain my memory to remember whathappened in the corridor. And suddenly I hear.

Hey, were are you? I close my eyes.Come and get me,I continue hearing her voice from the end of

the corridor as I carry two buckets of wet sea sand to her room so asto make a super natural woman statue, like we had planned. And as Iturn to enter the room, the image of topless Sophie standing on thebed hits my eyes and I drop the bucket on my foot. She laughshysterically and her modest breasts giggle along. I forget about thepain in my foot.

Flash back: I keep falling and smiling at this thought.Wishful thinking , but what happened really?, I wonder further.

What happened? She went to bed and I headed upstairs

thinking of nothing else but pure thoughts, light as a feather. No dirtythoughts, answered my consciousness based on the freshest

memories. I even got amazed at the purity of it. The only thing thatbothered me, was what would tomorrow be like, continued myconscious. No, not the day after today, because today I am fallingdown on Tbilisi: it is a matter of minutes. I am talking about tomorrowto the day when our lips melted into each other with a cloud of martinivapor around us. The central question was Did martini win the grant?Or what happened was what was supposed to happen.Maybe Martyjust helped us a little bit to send a resignation letter to that

Superfellow (pointing at Superego), resting high on the hill up on thetop., creating a big gap with "what's up" and what "could be up".A bird flies by my nose and I realize that it is no time for

rhyming. I need to do something. Do something to stop this falling.And why am I falling anyway? Am I going to meet my destiny in Tbilisior meet the ground? Hahaha. Maybe my destiny is the ground. Still Ifall.


5/27

~ 5 ~

But wait, maybe I am not falling, but instead I am flying. No,that is not true, objects are getting closer and closer at a rapid speed.Why isn't my heart exploding anyway? In such cases it usually does.Probably, because it is full. There is no more room there for air.Actually, who said that there is no more room?

I said it, I heard a strange voice.Who is that I, I hurried to wonder.It's me.You?Yes me.Who the hell are you? my surprise got even bigger.Your supergo.Oh, get out of here. Only you were missing. No vacancies in this

party, all right ! Go to the theater next door. This show is over. Plus Ithought that I accidentally lost you at the airport. How did you get aticket? I asked.

Iwill tell you what an accident that was. Next time you try toflash me in the public toilet, I will not only make your life moremiserable, but even worse, I will copy paste myself on every singlethought of yours. And believe me, it won't be pretty, the voicethreatened.

Come on man, I am falling. I am about to crash. What is yourproblem? Don't you want to save yourself? Go get a drink, have abreak. You are free now. Leave me alone with my thoughts.

Have you got a lighter? suddenly asked my Superego. A what?

A lighter! I don'tsmoke, answered I.Oh, I see. I thought...You think too much. Tell me, since you are such a thinker, what

were you doing, when I was with Sophie? I was with my college, the voice answered.You mean her superego? Exactly. She is a good fellow.Give me a break. You guys are sick. You make people feel

uncomfortable, awkward, and shameful, so that they drink in order to

push you away. Yet yourself you have a great time without an extrathought. You guys are sick. Get out of here. I despise you,I said withdisgust and turned away.

Now I fall, feeling like a puppet, who had been pulled on thestrings and could not have stopped it; stopped from being pulled. And,yes, we all are being ruled. We are ruled by powers within ourselves.


6/27

~ 6 ~

Yet as I see Tbilisi under me, my falling figure, I get kind of mean, thatthis is it - that I've had it and that my game was kind of rapid."Will this be the game over? Or will the whole thing start over?" I startto wonder

No, no, wait. I want to see more, give me more flashbacksbefore I hit the ground, my last wish pops out. I close my eyes, notwilling to see anything else. I want to crash with the picture of mynewly found princess. I shut my eyes and at once, regain the pictureof Sophie as she plays with the sand, lying on the beach.

A bouquet of sun rays arrive on her chick, and then crawl to herlips to slide up and down the chin, then move across her neck, thenalong her chest and legs to finally sink into the water- happy and high.

Many people run around, throwing sand on each other, splashingwater, jumping into the waves, falling, screaming. But I don't care. Ionly see and perceive Sophie in the sea: as she moves and jumps,laughs and dumps a sand ball straight into my chest. I laugh andthrow sand back at her. Then I collapse on the sand with my eyeslinked to the sky and melt into the nature. My heart beats faster, andI am high. I am really high. I can see the sky, feel the sand, the water,I carry her smell and her beautiful image in me so that they melt intoone experience - a unit of inner harmony attached with highlysensitive heart beats that create music- music of Sophie - soft, calm,and sensitive piano music.

Now I am high. I don't need hashish. I got my hash. No need forartificial trash. I see that the hash is in me. Sophie on the sea- and thehash in me.

Sophie on the sea- and the hash in me.Sophie on the sea - and the hash in me.

I open my eyes again. Tbilisi is really close. I can clearly seewindows on the houses, cars worming through the streets, bellsringing in the church.

This time I notice people staring at me from their balconies, as

the sunset paints their faces in orange. They open their eyes wider tomake themselves believe that what they see is really happening.

I am not falling, believe me. In fact I am flying.This is what I am telling them. But they won't believe me. They

dance in their balconies, singing Georgian songs. I can't understand aword, but I feel them to be so close to me. I guess the meaning of thewords, accepting them as warm wishes. Is it an illusion?


7/27

~ 7 ~

At least my falling isn't.Now, much clearly I can see individuals on the street standing

and staring at my shadow on the pavement that gets stronger andstronger as the distance between me and the pavement gets shorter

and shorter. Streaming at 150 miles an hour I try to scratch my headto have some last thoughts, wishes, and at least to edit in my mind a1 minute video of my life: to see what I did, where I was andbrainstorm about what I will miss.

But my brain is paralyzed, like a computer, frozen on the lastwindow that was active.

Down on Chavchavadze Avenue stands Sophie in her AmsterdamT-shirt. From around the crossroad the McDonalds restaurant iswalking closer to see what's happening. I can see the parks with allthe trees and benches move through the sidewalks into the street,surrounding Sophie. I can see my favorite places and people that Ihave met and seen in Tbilisi turn up from behind buildings, and fromeverywhere to join the circle: houses, churches, buildings, people,trees, and clubs. They all come together to witness a drama of a fallerfrom the sky, someone who loves to love and knows how to love. Onewho loves in a way, that nobody can love. Love by Love for Love andwith Love. Love about Love.

I peacefully close my eyes, ready to meet the destination. I canfeel that my favorite memories of Georgia have gathered down there,standing and watching me fall. And I am calm. I know that I am

getting there. Those who gathered are welcoming me. But from myunconscious I get disturbed by something. Something is trying to popup into my memory, to activate itself, but I can't make it active, sinceI don't understand what it is. I just feel that I missed something. Orsomething missed me. I know that something or someone didn't cometo meet me, to witness my falling, something that I loved so much,and something that I would watch with admiration and fill up withinspiration.

What is that, who is that? I need to know it before I get there. Ineed it, otherwise I won't make it. I must know what it is. I must. I

mus.With these last thoughts I feel as my body crashes through thicklayers of glass and keeps falling down as I smash and pass throughmore and more glass layers and finally collapse on a cement floor.

..................................Silence.......................................


8/27

~ 8 ~

I can't move. I can't see. I lay there alone in the darkness withan empty brain. No more thoughts bother me. No more images appear.I lay there, completely numb, not mumbling a word.

Through the dominating silence a distant outcry of a bass guitar

reaches my ear. Someone's familiar voice sings...

Hello.Is there anybody in there?

Just nod if you can hear me.

Is there anyone home?

I move my lips, but I can't whisper a word. The music goes on...

Come on, now.

I hear you're feeling down.

Well I can ease your pain,Get you on your feet again.

Hey,- I scream inside, - this is Pink Floyd, man - just the righttime to echo my pain. I try to say, Brothers I love you. You areright on time. I needed it. I love your music. You are the best.

But I cannot say what I think. Instead I swallow my saliva, fromthe pain that I can't let out a sound. Meanwhile the music continues...

Relax.I need some information first.Just the basic facts:

Can you show me where it hurts?

Brothers, it hurts, everywhere, damn, I don't know, I can't feelanything, I speak inside myself, trying to move a finger to at leastgive them a clue of where it might hurt. Yet I can feel neither myfinger nor anything else. But the singer, much more aware of mysituation keeps describing what I am going through.

There is no pain, you are receding.

A distant ship's smoke on the horizon.You are only coming through in waves.

Your lips move but I can't hear what you're saying.

When I was a child I had a fever.

My hands felt just like two balloons.Now I got that feeling once again.


9/27

~ 9 ~

I can't explain, you would not understand.

This is not how I am.

I have become comfortably numb.

Unable to move and extremely high from this musicalresemblance of my state, my closed eyes fill with tears. One braveteardrop skips through my numbly closed eyelids and slides down thechick. It hangs on the edge of the chick - then drips on the floor. Myhead falls to the side. The bass guitar takes the lead.

..................................Emptiness.........................................I open my eyes with such an ease as if nothing had happened. I

move my fingers - they move. I rise to a sitting position and lookaround. My mouth drops open. I found what was bugging my memory.I found that missing element. Even more - I found myself inside the

missing element. I was inside Pixel 34 - an under constructionshopping center, in form of a glass cube on Chavchavadze Ave- rightin the center of Tbilisi.

I get up, shake the glass pieces off my clothes and stare at thewalls of something that looked like an ice cube from inside. Then Iraise my head to discover a huge hole in the glass ceiling. At thismoment I hear sounds of moving glass pieces that mix with sounds ofcracking cement. I look down at the floor - the glass pieces on thefloor are rising into the air ceremonially, as if someone had pushed the

rewind button on the Earth's timeline.Then the crack in the cement floor, exactly in the place wherethe teardrop fell, widens as a tree branch starts growing from out thecement into the air. Meanwhile it gets thicker as it rises higher at thesame time getting richer with leaves and more branches.

I move backwards, slightly scared, and annoyed and keeppanning up my head as the tree sends its branches to all directions,that crawl up the walls, covering it with leaves of different color.

Then I look back at the ceiling to witness the glass pieces rise upand the ceiling close in one quick movement. No sign of breakingremains. My eyes widen.

I look back down to find out that the entire cube has turned intoheaven's garden of some kind. There are flowers everywhere and theirscent has diffused into the air inside the cube and I feel that someonehas knocked on heaven's door.

The Pink Floyd music stops as I make a step forward. I can feelthe grass and the flowers under my feet get pressed and squeezed.


10/27

~ 10 ~

This is real, Jesus. Am I dreaming? I must be dreaming, I tryto pull my mind together. Then I slap myself once, twice, but thepicture doesn't change. What is this, I continue the self helpprocess,The Cube game? Exactly: it all looks like the movie Cube.These flowers must be poisonous, it must be a trap.

I start backing up, but instead I bump into more and moreflowers and tree branches. I rush the other way, it's the same. Iretreat in the opposite direction - nothing better. They are everywhere.I get scared. But all of a sudden a door from nowhere opens in theopposite wall and a bright light coming from there hits my eyes. Isquint to better see who is standing there in the doorway.

I can't believe it. It's Sophie. Her transparent silk gown is beingblown up into the air by the wind, as she makes small steps in mydirection. I stand there nailed. She walks closer, without looking at me,but I can feel that she has noticed me. Her walking seems like a ritualof foot steps with a secret message encoded in them. But I amobsessed with her face, so I ignore the message in the walking. Shewalks to a flower, bends, and smells it, then with a sweet feeling ofpleasure and beauty on her face she turns and walks to the nearbyapple tree. Reaching the tree, she stretches her fine and thin hand to ahanging apple and puts her palm under it. She slowly wraps herfingers around the apple and completely having it in her palm, pulls it.Then she takes the apple to her lips, and instead of biting on it, shesmiles and throws a flirty look at me.

I haven't seen her smile like this. She is very mysterious andthat triggers my curiosity about where I am. I want to ask, but I amnot sure whether we are allowed to talk in this place. She keepssmiling and I can't understand anything. The romantic and the artist inme are nailed and paralyzed, breathing heavily, so I decide to loosemy patience and let the black man out of me to do some investigation.

The black doesn't loose a second.Heaven on Earth, damn! How you doing my lightning? What is

this - a mini heaven or something? The new Georgian branch? hahaha !Wow, you got an apple in your left hand. Wow, is this ColumbiaPictures rewriting history with a new film entitled "Adam Resurrected".Or maybe CNN is shooting a documentary - ADAM, revealed: Aninsider's view. No, I got it - it's Britney's new music clip on Oops I didit again. Hahaha. Yes, yes, yes. You get paid well? Talk to me, babe -communicate. Market your thoughts. You are good at that. Why areyou smiling back all the time? What does that sign on your clothe say?


11/27

~ 11 ~

Marketing and Communication Officer. Oh mama ! Hold on a moment.Are we in heaven? Damn, I didn't know they got a marketingspecialist in heaven. Come on. Are we really in heaven?Jesus, what is your role here? Why won't you say a word? You are onesophisticated case Sophie. Give me a clue. Why are we here down on

Earth, when heaven's supposed to be there. Please say it. Come on!

Hello, may I be of service to you?she speaks, still smiling. AndI understand that the smile is a mask, not a message to me.

Damn, she speaks. Babe it's me. How are you doing? Don't yourecognize a player any more? Come on. Nobody knows what will be,You're enemy's my enemy - coz you never had a friend like me. It'sme babe. Me ! I cry out.

I appreciate your warm wishes, yet still I have no clue of how Ican be helpful to you, she continues politely.

Are you playing with me? I am doing my job sir.Sir? Come ooooon. Ain't no sir. Someone please call 911. Babe

you ain't gettin' it huh?Wish accepted. Calling 911, she says and at that very moment

a golden mobile phone shines in her hand as her fingers start dialing.She puts the phone to her ear. We both wait.

A ring tone coming from behind the trees disturbs the silence. Iturn to see an aluminum phone booth with an antique phone hangingin it. It is in a hardly noticeable corner. She walks toward the booth. I

keep staring. The phone keeps ringing. She reaches the phone, peaksit up with the other hand and answers it.

Local calling time - 9p.m, 35th of August, year 8005.Emergency Call Center, Sopo the Communication Officer speaking.May I help you? she saysand throws the cell phone to me, withoutany warning. With gesticulations of a goalkeeper I manage to grab thephone. I slowly raise it to my ear. She stands there waiting with herscary ceremonial patience and perpetual smile.

Hello,I mumble into the phone, not sure whether it's the black

guy, the artist or the rational side of me speaking.Sopo the... she tries to say.Igot it. You don't need to repeat it. Sopo is fine. So you must

be managing this placeYes sir, you are speaking to the Communication officer of

Heaven's Brach No.5987. May you have any sort of emergency, pleasereport to me. Our working days are from Monday to Branday.


12/27

~ 12 ~

Wha..what? I interrupt. Wait a minute. Are you a person, or arobot? And yes I do have an emergency. And if you are ready to listento my story, let me know, so that I can get started.

Sir, do you need a lawyer?Why would I need one, I wonder all of a sudden.

Becauseanything you say may be used against you in the finalrun,she continues.

Whatfinal run?Is it your first time here?Yes, but where am I anyway?Dontworry. First timers get an Amnesty Coupon for 24 hours.

During the 24 hour period, by the way, you have only 23 hours and 59minutes left, all your actions fall under the general amnesty law. Soplease speak freely, enjoy your freedom. When 24 hours are over, youwill be held fully responsible for every single action. May you beinterested in finding out more about our policies, terms and conditions,please dial *111* to listen to our electronic version of theconstitution.

Sophie what did they do to you? What is going on? Am Idreaming? God, you got to give me an answer, please. What is this?Tell me it's a dream, I scream out of rage.

Dreams don't exist son,a bass voice echoes from above.

Father,I exclaim, almost ready to fall on my knees, ready tomeet God, who the mankind had spend centuries visualizing.

No just Brother Bob, I hear the answer, as an old fat manwith a huge beard circling around his greasy face, walks out from thenearby bushes. He wears large baggy jeans and has huge scissors inhis hands.

Dreams, my son, don't exist, he continues.Every time youdream, you take a trip to one of the branch offices around the world.

So, is this a decentralized system, you know, like heaven hasbeen divided into local franchises?I wonder

No, son. Heaven does exist. These are just GATES to heaven.

You are now in Gate No. 5987.Jesus Christ.

I shut up to digest this news. But I loose my patience soon.OK, then how do you know which gate you will appear in?Youdon't choose the gate. The gate chooses you.How? my curiosity sharpens.


13/27

~ 13 ~

Simply. When you keep thinking about something withadmiration and pleasure, then that object becomes a gate for you - agate of departure to realms of happiness.

Sois Pixel 34 my gate?Not only. You have gates everywhere you have been. You have

a gate in Zurich, - Kunsthaus. You have a gate in Boston, - the bridgeover the river. When you were a kid, you used to go to a library inYerevan and listen to music by the window, meanwhile dreaming ofthe things that you didn't have. That was a gate. You want more,please. Remember the girl from last year?

Unfortunately, I say with despair.Thestreet, on which she lived, was a gate, continues Brother

Bob.I thought it was a fade in zone.Fadein, he pronounces laughing out loud.Yes, when I used to walk over there, her image would fade in

into my consciousness like the image does smoothly fade on the blackscreen and I would feel her presence.

Thats old stuff, son. Fade in is past. These are Gates - gatesthat are open 24 hours a day. They don't close. This glass cube forinstance is on Chavchavadze Ave. here in Tbilisi. People pass by; carsstop at the traffic light nearby. Soon the shopping center will open up,people will start shopping here. But the gates will be open for thosewho see through the ordinarily decorated space. Most people that passby, throw a glance and go. They don't see, they don't know what goeson in the parallel life of this cube. But this cube, while standing here

on this street as part of the city's rhythm, welcomes those at its gatewho somehow see its soul, who notice more than a glass sculpture,who perceive it as a living soul that changes the reality around it. Wepeople think that we are alone and that trees and stones, animals, hills,oceans are all there to serve us, but it is far from being true. Earth, infact, does not care about us. Its rhythm and cycles won't suffer frommalfunction if the human species disappears. More than that, it is thehuman being that disturbs and interferes with the Earth's life cycle bypolluting and destroying the nature. The man has lost respect, ormaybe has never had one and pays back with all the evil that goes on

around us. Even more, people are so blind that they can't even noticeeach other. They don't notice that whatever that is created, even theman made things - for example this glass cube, obtains a life of itsown. It starts living. It carries the face it has been given - a glass face,for instance, it is made to be square, so it is square and everything inits personality is square- its mood is square, sounds in it echoaccording to the square boundary, if you walk in it, then you step intoa subreality limited with this square, your decisions made in it are still


14/27

~ 14 ~

made while you are in the square. Even if you stand on the oppositestreet the square affects you, because it's there. There is nothing inthis city's life that this square does not participate in. Even if theyshoot a dog a mile away, the sound waves from the gun will travel allthe way here and get absorbed by this cube. And the cube does carry

all that information. Isn't that funny? We humans have been grantedwith more mobility than any other creature in the world, but we areless aware of things, because we have been turned into addicts offormatted information. If the news on the TV or the newspaper don'tsay it, we don't notice it. We have been programmed to see certainthings, and to see everything within certain frames. If the frames arereplaced, then we are in deep problems, because our brains give anerror. You know, there are little insects and plants that receiveinformation from miles away through supersensitive hearing apparatusor by processing ultraviolet rays. Those fellows deserve respect.

Sir, I certainly appreciate your such an emotional outcry on mysimple question. But since you started, let me disagree with you andnotice that people created Internet -so that we can be in the course ofthe events that take place around the world,I stick up for the moderntimes.

True. But what happened in reality is that only few learned howto use internet. Most of the people became dependant, lost the abilityof looking into each other's eyes to say good things to each other.They started to SMS each other. Not that SMS is bad. But the issue isthat with us humans the back side of the coin is always more heavy.It's just like if you made a coin, one side out of wood, and the other

out of metal so that the metal side would be the the drawbacks of aspecific phenomenon. And the wooden side would stand for the goodqualities of the same phenomenon. When you place the coin into thewater with the wooden face down, the metal face turns over andmakes the coin sink. Unfortunately it is the case with everything. Wefall victims to the bad sides of the good things that we create.

But we shouldn't, I start to feel lost.That's not my problem any more. Say it to those that still have

time. My time is up, says Brother Bob with his nostalgic eyes pointedat me.

Whatdo you mean?Yes, I mean it. I am here on permanent basis. It's my home,my workplace, the place where I spend my leisure time. It's all here inthis cube. What I know now is not equal to what I knew then. I couldhave a different life if I knew back then what I know now. Now I canonly observe.

I swallow the silence that follows his words. Then again Ibecome curious.


15/27

~ 15 ~

Areyou a ghost?Do I look like one? He smiles.I don't know: I have never seen one, I say.I will leave that up to you. Let's go get a beer. I've been

working hard for the past 25 hours, mowing the lawn, chopping dried

out branches, he says and heads forward. I watch Brother Bob movethrough the bushes, but I am motionless, standing where I was. Thenhe stops and turns to me.

Are you coming? By the way we only have local beer; nothinginternational.

I step forward like a hypnotized, but I don't notice where I amgoing, what I am looking at. As if my eyes have been turned inside outand I start to see inside myself. Suddenly a cold bottle touches myhand and I am shaken from my hypnotic inner journey. I discover abottle of Natakhtari touching my hand.

Take it,insists Brother Bob. I grab the bottle.Cheers,says he and hits his bottle against mine.Cheers, I mumble. I watch him empty half of the bottle with

one gulp, as the beer foam slides down his thick white beard.

Brother Bob. I think that I have seen you somewhere, I say asI take a sip from my bottle.

Ha-ha, really?I think so.Yes, you think, but you haven't. Our life lines have never

crossed.Bob. You know everything, right, I ask like a child asks the

how are children born question to his grandmother.Iam not God. I am a servant, says Brother Bob as he smiles.Butyou knew about my Gates, I refuse to believe.That's a piece of pie. We all have access to that information.Forreal?For real.

I pause for a second, then confess.

In that case I want to consult with you about something.What is that? he asks gently.Don't pretend that you don't know, I nag at him.I really don't. I haven't been updated to the system lately. If

you wait, I can do it, and then I will know. Unless you tell me what itis.

It is fine, I give up, and then find a sit on the ground, in a cozyplace.


16/27


17/27

~ 17 ~

I open my eyes. And find myself seating in front of a bigrefrigerator with the open door. Brother Bob is gone. Inside the doorcompartments there are many bottles of local Natakhtari. The rest ofthe fridge is a doorway to a brightly lit tunnel. I grab a beer and walk

into the fridge.

I appear in a large misty corridor that is completely painted intowhite. Due to the mist I can only see above my waist, but I keep going.My heart is pounding terribly, as if there are speakers inside my chest.Completely unaware of where I am going, I walk bravely like a soldierthat marches forward to meet whatever that will come up on the road.I turn at the corner and keep walking. At the end of the corridor I seea bright light. I keep walking. My brain is no longer brainstormingabout life. I just do my walking with an empty head, willing to takewhatever that comes. I can now see that the light comes from an opendoor at the end of the corridor that radiates with yellow and warmlight. I cover my eyes and start pushing myself toward the door eventhough my body wants to retreat because of the heat that blows fromthere. I lean with my entire weight against the extremely hot windthat blows in my direction. The bottle of beer cracks and breaks in myhand. The leaking beer evaporates momentarily. I use my feet to pushmyself forward. And suddenly I start screaming,

Sophie, and putting more power in my struggle. Then with amagical force I cut through the entrance and remember collapsing onhot sand.

I wake up on the beach, as the sea waves are playing with myfeet. I feel a bottle of beer, resting against my chick. As I move myhead it falls to a side opening a view of the Tunisian beach that I wason a week ago. No way. In the water is seating Brother Bob with abeer in his hand. He has a smoking pipe in his mouth. He wearssailor's clothes in black and white stripes.

I get on my feet and run to Brother Bob. He is seating in thewater, with his eyes glued to the horizon. His beard smokes with a

thick white smoke.Brother Bob. How did you do this? I ask not knowing what isgoing on.

I didn't do anything, he answers most calmly, without even

turning to see my face.How did we appear here?You wished it.But I never asked.


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~ 18 ~

A wish is enough.Is it really?Sometimes it is. Sometimes it isn't. It depends on the case. For

example I wish I could persuade that voluptuous Arabic girl over there,to come lay by me. But my wish doesn't have a base to attach to. She

is not attracted to old fat guys with a huge beard caught on fire. Ha-ha-ha,he laughs letting out puffs of smoke.

I could do that for you. I could persuade her to lie by me in away that she would turn in between of us. Factually she would be lyingby you. Do you want that?

I want her to be lying by me, because she wants to lie by me. Idon't want to eat bread, smelling barbeque smoke and think of havinga good dinner. You know what I mean?

Damn, Bob. You need to tell that lady all of this stuff. She mightget inspired to not only lie by, but as well as stay by you.

Have a beer and sit down. Forget about that lady. I was justplaying with you. You have a more important lady to think about.

With these words my mind clears up and I realize where I am. Iam in Tunisia, standing on the beach where Sophie might be standing,because she is factually still in Tunisia, since she stays a week longerthan the rest of our group. I start to shout.

Sophie, Sophie.Brother Bob is laughing under his nose. I start to run toward the

hotel where Sophie and her friend, Suslik are staying. I hear that Bobis telling me something, but I am too fast to let the words reach my

ears. In a second I am in the lobby.Where is your bracelet? is the first question I am asked as I try

to take the left corridor, leading to the rooms. I stop to think of whatto say. But the second wave arrives before I manage to open mymouth.

Sir, you are supposed to wear a special bracelet if you arestaying at this hotel. Otherwise I would ask you to leave the area.

Oh Please. Will somebody please stop and ask what it is that Iwant? I need information, Sir. I am looking for someone and I need toknow whether she is here or not. I didn't make it all the way here to

be stopped by a stupid question about a bracelet.Parle vu Fronses?asks the man at the desk.Nein, nicht. I speak only English. And I only think about Sophie.

Give me a break and some information, PLEASE.The guy, most likely, touched by my performance, called in

someone who spoke better English.Yes sir, may I helpyou?asked the new receptionist.I need to know whether Sophie and Suslik are here.


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~ 19 ~

Full names, please.Full...Sophie, and Sus....no..... Nina.He started digging into the keyboard. Meanwhile I was looking

around, spotting familiar objects: the president's picture hanging onthe wall, the little fountain in the middle, the entrance to the

restaurant, people rushing inside and out, the tea cups by the door,the numerous armchairs in the lobby, people seating outside. A longline of tourists had managed to form behind me, but the receptionistwas still struggling with the keyboard. I lost my patience and rushedinto the corridor.

I am running now, straight to where the two used to stay. I turnat the corner according to the habit and find the room 1011. The dooris not locked. I knock. There is no answer. I start to slowly push thedoor and what do I see.

A bare Arabic ass is tenderly moving back and fort while thevictim or the winner, I couldn't guess back then, is softly moaning, asif she is about to get a Nobel prize for staying calm while being bangedat 50 miles per hour. Judging from the female's feet that are stickingto the sides of the guy - she is an Arabic woman. Obviously there isno one else in the room. I guess that they have left. So the cleaninglady took up the stage. I stand there frozen, thinking of where theycould have gone, when these two stop and turn to look at me.Oh-oh! I turn and rush away, but immediately bump into thereceptionist who must have been looking for me. He starts.

Sir, they have checked out early this morning, he rushes to

inform me.Yes, and guess who has checked in, I say and run farther

without looking back. I only hear as seconds later the receptioniststarts a whole curse monologue in Arabic. Any rapper would feeljealous of the way the receptionist was cursing the cleaning lady andher cleaner. He cleaned them up there right on the spot mostrhythmically. I just kept running through the hotel back to the yardand by the pool straight to the beach. I needed to find a way of how toget back to Tbilisi. I did not have a ticket. I didn't know anyone.

So, I am back on the beach, looking for Brother Bob. The placewhere he was sitting has been taken up by a group of Russians, thatare singing some Russian national songs as they rest their feet in thewater. I look for the Arabic woman, but she is gone, too.

I feel left alone in the sun with my head full of Sophie, but not asingle way leading me to where she was going. I started looking forthe hole from where I could have popped here on this beach. Sand


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~ 20 ~

was everywhere and there was no sign of the door through which Iwas pushed here. I sat down on the sand feeling tired and weary.Then I collapsed on my back and my eyes closed immediately.

Suddenly Sophie's face towers over my lying figure. She puts

some sun lotion on her palm and starts rubbing her palms againsteach other. Then she puts the palm on my face and softly startspatting my chick, then my forehead, then my neck, then again thechick. The patting slowly turns into soft slapping and when my bodystarts to shake. I open my eyes to find myself back in the cube...

Brother Bob was chopping a grape tree. The Arabic woman waslying down under the tree, in the grass, holding a bunch of grapes.One by one she was placing those big grapes in between her thickAfrican lips.I turn to find out that it was the communication officer Sophie whowas slapping me for the sake of waking me up. This time she waswearing a skirt down to her knees, an elegant shirt and a badge withher name that said- Sopo The Communication Officer. I grabbed herhand, ready to tell her what had happened, but she stood upimmediately and started talking about the constitution, the rules andthe timeline, about how many more minutes I had left, where and whoto meet to prolong the coupon and how much and what type of work Iwould need to do in return as well as all the consequences that I wouldneed to face in case of misbehavior. I felt that my head was falling offin this cube. I needed to get out of there. So I jumped to my feet and

started screaming.Brother Bob. Tell me. Which way is the god damn exit!

Brother Bob, without turning, smiled and spoke up.Isn't she pretty? Look at how elegantly she eats our Georgian

grapes. She has never seen that, so she is excited- so excited that shecame all the way over here to try them. Ha-ha, I know, you thoughtthat she was seduced by my charm. But no, it was all about thegrapes- the grapes that she had never tried. They are interesting toher. As to how the grapes are feeling, they love her lips - those thick,

black and tasty lips.How do you know, have you tasted them already?No the grapes are telling me that.

The Arabic woman is saying sweet words with lust and passion. Ican't understand what she is saying, but I sure know that she treatsthe grapes as more than a fruit. She plays with each one of them,before swallowing; she plays with each one differently, showing how


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~ 21 ~

much she understands and likes them all. I stand there caught up withthis scene of the unusual form of communication - THE GRAPE ANDTHE WOMAN. I feel kind of lost and I don't even know what else Iwould like to know in this life. I know that my stupid heart started tosing and I found myself flying down on Tbilisi. I know that it was all

about one girl that lives in only one country in one block in one houseand in only one apartment, which I have no idea where to find. But allthese images around this cube - the gates and this officer who hasstolen Sophie's face bother me more than provide help to find answersto the questions that I have collected inside. I look at the officer ladystand there with a paused happy facial expression of a computer gamecharacter that will only activate if you cross the zone within which shehas been programmed to react. Then I look at the Arabic woman whoeats the grapes. The moments she turns to the next grape theprevious one grows back immediately. I look at Brother Bob whokeeps cutting tree branches and singing a song about the shepherdwho had lost his sheep and went to look for them. I ear the song andthe tone of his voice and realize that this is the only human componentin this animated and robotized techno cube. I realize how much I havechanged ever since I entered this place. I remember how differently Iperceived it from outside as I stood there on the street, thinking of itas a piece of art and a wonderful object to watch. But now things havechanged. I am standing here in the cube as if in a computer game, theonly character to whom I can talk is an old man with a beard that ismore mysterious than the Egyptian pyramids.

Completely lost, but still numb with love, I make a step forward,feeling like a distant ship's smoke on the horizon, just like the songwas saying. I feel as a balloon, ready to rise in the air and dissolveinto little molecules and sneak out into the street through the holes inbetween the glasses. Pink Floyds THE TIME fades into the air. And Imake another step forward, but instead my foot slightly rises in the airwithout even asking me why. Even though there is no stairway, but Icontinue rising. Another step and I get even higher. I am walking upthe air. Four and I am about to make another step, but Brother Bobturns and looks up at me, meanwhile saying.

I know it is time for you to go. But I need to tell you that thegate called you to not send you to heaven, but to rather send youinside yourself. Don't hate the gate for that. It's all for you. Your headis a mess now. But that is fine. It will clear up. Just like everythingafter a thunderstorm does. There are questions to which you need tofind answers yourself. Sometimes only life is the best consultant.I know that you were dying to ask me whether Sophie would be yours.But believe me; it is not helpful to know all the answers. That's


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~ 22 ~

something that you should live and learn. We all want quick and shortdirections. But not always the short road takes you to the destinationwith the richest journey you can have. And not always the long roadhas a promised journey. Still, what counts is the journey, not the road.Nevertheless everything in life has a function. Don't look for straight

forward answers, look behind words, see behind things, and hear whatlays under the words- the tone. If a gambler knew that he would looseall his money, he wouldn't gamble. And if he didn't gamble, hewouldn't stand on the edge of the bridge to finally meet another girlstanding there. And there goes a love story.

Bob, I've seen that movie. Bring another example, I say out ofsarcasm, not knowing why Brother Bob is bringing clich examples inthis special moment.

Sorry, I just liked this movie a lot. I'm old, you know. I need tofeel young and that's why I watch these new movies.

That's all right Bob. But you don't get one thing. I love a girlthat is lost the way I am. She is someone like me, searching for things,going philosophic on life, asking questions that others don't dare toask. She is awfully pretty, but I wouldn't care about her, had shespoken with words and sentences other than those that I've heard.That's what caught me. And that's why I feel anxious, that's why Iwonder whether I have met the gate. I love this girl for the way shespeaks, for the way she laughs, besides her looks. It's hard to like agirl when she is speaking. You always want them to shut up. But Idon't. I want to hear her, I want to feel her, I want to feel her breathe,resting on my chest. I want to wrap my arms around her shoulders

and watch the sunset with her on the top of a cliff. I want to let thesun paint our faces with natural colors and I want my heart to bleedthen with all the love that is collected in there toward life and towardbeauty. And the bleeding river from my heart would make all the treesgrow higher and make them more fertile, because, Brother Bob, I amsincere. Sincerity and sincere things will only shift the world to thegood side. Artificial life rhythms, that we fall victim to, will kneel usdown like slaves. We are victims of habits. We meet the same people,eat the same things, and repeat the same actions. But inside we wantto change it, yet still we can't overcome our fear of instability. We

need stability and we can trade it with growth and prosperity, just forthe sake of not going through the trouble of trying to make changes,because we fear failures. We will kiss anyone in the ass if they don'tmake us feel bad about ourselves and the way we are. That's why wedon't want to face reality, so that it doesn't make us feel bad. Changescause instability, they shake the balance.

True is that, my son, exclaims Brother Bob. And I continue

even more inspired by his response.


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~ 23 ~

And even more true is, that we unconsciously fear changesmost of all. Because we can not foresee what will happen next. We arereally weak. We need a guide to direct us. In all the cases, when weare left alone without guidance we wrinkle like a drying out flower,waiting to be watered. But we don't receive water all the time.

Nowadays water costs money, and they won't water you for the sakeof watering. If you are a flower without smell, just slide back into thesoil baby. The party is for VIPs now. You missed the train. Life is notan equal stage for everyone. And it has never been. And that doesn'tbother me the most. I mean, animals eat each other up, and that's theway life in this universe has been programmed. What can I say?I just think about life and how I am living it, and how I could possiblybe living it, and I understand that I don't know anything about it. Themore I find out, the more the truth distances itself from me. I reallysearch for universal truth within a modern context. But the truth getsas close as the rainbow for those who are running to catch it. Then Istop in front of the mirror as I happen to be passing by and gaze intomy eyes, thinking that who I see is the representative of the mankind,standing against the product of the hidden mutation processes thatconstitute the soul and style of the modern man. And I debate withmyself about modern life.In fact, I am a modern man. I can smoke, watch movies, be online,get drunk, curse, scream, stand in the rain, take a taxi, walk, touch awoman, smell the subway, draw a helicopter, be lazy, do pushups,think about what others think about me, stick my head out of thewindow somewhere on the 16th floor of a skyscraper and scream.

I came to understand that I can enlarge my list of the things thatI can do. I can start taking drugs, sleeping with any girl I see, I candrink every day, ignore or fight back every time my mother tells me tomake up my room, I can stop taking a shower, because I don't careany more, because I am a free man who can do whatever he wants,whenever and wherever he wants. I don't have to report nothing toanyone. I don't have to watch the traffic light. I can just cross thestreet, because you all owe me. You all owe me that I am alive. Andyou will be in deep shit if I die. They, he, she - you all exist because Ithink you do. When I don't care about you - you don't exist any more.

You are who I think you are and you will be who I will want you to be.I will spend my life struggling for a place from where I will easily stepon your back and scream " Action!" Then you will have to crawl, theway I tell you, to bark the way I find exciting. You will have to dresswith what I give you, and you will eat what I will throw in front of you.You will then collapse on your face, straight into the mud, but youwon't notice how dirt fills your mouth and how your head slowly sinksin the swamp, because you will be too tired to feel. Only then I will let


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~ 24 ~

you go for 8 hours in order to grant my brilliant mind an opportunity tobrainstorm about an explanation that will make your miserable liveslook nicer in your own eyes when you open them back eight hourslater- to get assigned to my new mission. And believe me, I will comeup with something that your brains, that are the size of my fingernails

will love it so much that you will start following me to the gates of hell,thinking you are on a tour to heaven. You are terribly dumb and I amextremely smart to make anything I want become possible, because Iam the modern man, I am being prepared to face the battle of themankind alone, to face challenges separate from others, to considermyself as the highest value. I take drugs, because I like to. No onecan tell me not to. I strive for power because that's what everyoneelse does. I don't look for a minor position. Because then I won't beable to rule. I don't need harmony and peace within myself, becausethat sounds antique and out of time. We are all going to die by fiftyanyway from some cancer or at 55 from a heart attack. We don't needpeace, when the time is so short. We can't think about the inside wheneverything outside is so shiny and dynamic. Even buses have runningheadlines nowadays. Everything is in motion. And we too, have to be.We can't be the ugly ducking, who stays and wonders about his originwhen the rest of the ducklings are silently following the mother duck.We need to join the line and let others worry about who we are, wherewe are coming from, how we should behave, where we should stop,what we should eat, what names we could possibly be called, what isbest for us and so on. That, my brother Bob, is what life in the moderntime is teaching us. I can install this philosophy into my system and

there you will have yet another newly born zombie. That is what weare trained to be. We are being trained like dogs to look for something.Few of us will get down to where they belong. They will always bethrown from side to side like a piece of wood in the ocean, because theocean is vast and strong. Brother Bob, one should never let that oceanfrom outside invade his inside as much as possible. It's impossible tobe free, because there is nothing outside, and there is nothing inside,like Herman Heisse has stated. Because what's outside it's inside. Iagree with this great statement. But there must be a way to keep theinside somehow balanced and that is what I am struggling for. That's

what I dedicate my life to. I carry genes in me: the genes of my fatherand my mother: the genes that constitute me as a whole. But I alsolive in a society and even more, now I live in one big global communitythat is trying to affect me with the tools that it has available. I don'ttrust all of these tools, because I don't trust all the players in thisgame. That's why I have to choose. And I choose to be a modern man,free from drugs, living and thinking about life that is more or lesshealthy. I choose to think about people, care about them. I choose to


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~ 25 ~

be successful but for the sake of self-realization, and not fordomination and exercising power on others. I choose to stick mymiddle finger in the faces of all those young people that can't create adamn thing, but claim to be young and active. I then despise thesesame young people that believe that the world evolves around them,

but hypocritically claim to be activists of change. Let me tell youBrother Bob, that I choose to be searching, rather than claim to havefound a recipe. I know it is not easy and that many things lookdifferent as I keep looking back at them over time.

But I know one thing. I took this journey to understand that, infact, we are all the central charters of our own stories. But what wedon't know is that our story is not an entire complete plot. It's just onechapter of a book with endless chapters. Even more, I think that I ama wooden sculpture that is cut in half and thrown into the water. Onlywhen I meet the other half will I be able to activate my existence andunravel my mission on Earth. Now, I understand that within everything,under every stone, the greatest password is LOVE. Even God couldn'tcreate this planet without so much love in him. Even if one doesn'tbelieve in God, and thinks that life on earth started from a singlebacteria, I still wonder how much love there has been in that bacteriato make itself transform throughout time and evolution. You can arguethat evolution happens because of the external impulses of the nature,which makes stronger species reproduce and adjust the newgeneration to the climate changes. But then I ask you - why don't theydie. Why did the animals have to make themselves change in order tosurvive? They could have simply said "whatever" and died. But they

didn't. Because they love to live. We all need love to live. We mustlove living and live loving. That's what I realize Brother Bob.

Son, you just made me visualize that first bacteria from whichlife started, leaking with love, seating there all alone on the planetafter the great catastrophe, thinking of being lonely and in need ofcompany. Then he starts pulling itself into different directions andtalking like this- Come on man, come on, you got to save the world.Do this for me. Yes I love you. Yes I do. Double up. Double up.And all of a sudden he falls apart and from there on we now have twopieces of bacteria doing the same thing.

Oh, Brother Bob, can I borrow some of your humor?Why not. Depends on how much you offer.50 cents per every 50 laughs.Why don't you say a laugh per a cent?50 sounds more.I am old, but I am not a fool. Dog!There is a black man in you. Let me tell you that. You are not

alone there Brother Bob. Someone's soul has sneaked into you.


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~ 26 ~

I don't know. Do you believe in reincarnation? he asks.Not that I believe in it. It just sounds interesting, I say.Yes, kind of; life after life, he adds.Hey, Bob, won't you get fired for doing Buddist talking by a

Christian gate?

No, our Lord is generous, he lets us free, he loves us any time.No strain is needed. You can brainstorm about things in any directionyou want to. Lord accepts as the way we are.

Literally? I wonderYes.Hey, BobWhat?Thank you.What for?Everything. Thank you for the journey, for talking to me.

Everything.

I make the final step on the stairway and look down. I amamazed. I am high in the sky, among clouds and I can not seeanything. Tbilisi looks like a tiny dot now. I wonder how I didn't noticehow I got up this high. I look around - not a single person - just cloudsand clouds.

"Wait, I stop to think, what about Brother Bob, how did hisvoice reach this far?" Brother Bob, I start to call. No answer. Isound like a loner in the vast sky. Brother Bob,I scream louder, butstill don't receive a reply. I look around and start to feel cold. I put my

hands into my pockets. Inside one pocket I sense something. I take itout. It's a piece of paper that says: Don't forget the magic sentence.

What sentence? I wonder and turn the paper to accidentallyfind another saying on the back that reads: The one that you took thejourney to say.

I got thoughtful, because I had forgotten where my journey hadstarted. I had experienced so many things and had so many thoughtsthat I lost the link between them. But somehow I felt that they allwere united with an invisible link - something without which thesethoughts wouldn't be born and something without which the journey

would be pointless. The journey, yes my journey. I had a journey. Itwas all about the sea. It was a sophisticated journey. Hashis ! Why didI remember that? Oh, Sophie. The magic sentence. The reason why Itook the journey. Now I know.

I straighten my position to stand strong on my feet, anticipatingthat I would scream so loudly that I could fall from the sky again. Andprobably that's why I was falling at the beginning. And I start....


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Sophieeeeeee, I Loooooove youuuuuuu. But somehow myfoot slips on the last note and I start falling. At that moment I hearSophie's sweet voice announce through the loud speaker, much likethose at the airports.

Mr. Varuzhan Sahakyan, the boarding to the flight PixelValley -

Tbilisi has started. You are kindly requested to approach Gate 1 toreceive your boarding pass.

I reply, I am coming, I am coming.

....................

I feel as someone is pushing my hand. I wake up, still screaming,"I am coming" and discover myself alone in a minibus with the drivertired of telling me that we have reached Tbilisi and it is time for me toget out.

I look at his face, then out of the window. We are in fact in Tbilisi.I am happy. So I throw in my favorite line in Georgian.

Gamarjoba, Genac vale, didimindori danama. Then I pick upmy bag and get off the bus, laughing loudly like a mad man. I startwalking toward the city downtown with a big smile on my face,thinking,

She won't believe it!

Var 2008

Heaven's Pixel

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