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A coat, an umbrella,
a jacket, a cap, a hat.... Shoes... Shoes,
too?... Or course, your shoes, too. And your
socks, too. In fact you have to take off
everything you are wearing. Well, maybe you don't have to,
but you should, because if you don't take your
clothes off, going there will have no sense at
all ..... THERE or where? Yes, your entire
attire. The attire of your culture. The armour
of your civilisation. The crust of your
mentality... It won't be easy. It will be
incredibly and unbelievably difficult. Because
this attire, once put on you right after your
birth, and never taken off after, have clung to
the skin. Has become your skin. Scales. Hide.
Hairs. Fur. Shell... So, it is as if I asked you
to tear off your skin. And this is not possible.
You can't live without the skin.... Yet this is
not the real skin – this is but attire, clothes.
And the clothes can be taken off. Then your mind
could revel in sun and wind, could touch gently
soft velvet grass, could be cut and hurt
delicately by small stones and gravel. Your mind
could take a gulp of fresh air. Could stop
stinking. Could get rid off lichens and
stains.... Probably you should begin with
noticing-feeling-understanding that your
culture, any culture, the culture you have been
growing up in, is not your skin, nor scales, nor
hairs or fur, nor a hide, nor a shell, nor a
crust – it is a shirt, jumper, gloves, sandals
or cap. And they can be taken off. Can be hung
in a wardrobe or put on a shelf or scattered
around. Can be washed, can be darned and
patched. And finally: they can be changed. You
can put on your head another cap and you still
be yourself. Or you would change yourself very
slightly, like when you change the colour of
your hair.... Is it possible? Is it really
possible? Isn't it but a bag full of dreams
which you have to leave in the cloakroom?
They will be outraged. They will
be offended awfully. They will shout loudly: maybe
you want us to buy new clothes? And shouting out
this phrase they will put the stress on buy thus trying to
emphasize the disgusting character of this
deed, how unacceptable, perverse and unworthy
it is.
. . . . . .
. maybe just here, or earlier, or instead, a
description of taking off the coat should
appear. Of the coat which has become thick skin,
almost a fur. A realistic description, precise,
full of horrifying details. Of the muscles being
unveiled, of veins coming out, of dripping fat.
And so on. Even sounds of clattering bones . . .
. . This description should be contrasted with
another description: of somebody taking off his
cap – and then he can see a different world
around him – as if he was wearing a helmet
generating virtual reality . . . . And maybe a
really short story, which could be transformed
later into a huge novel: a story of someone who
has mistaken the coats in this cloakroom . . .
Well,
it may seem this is just an ordinary
cloakroom. An unimportant space. Unnoticeable.
A space nobody pays attention to. While it is
more important than the main lecture hall,
than all the laboratories.
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