Τρίτη 16 Αυγούστου 2016

"thgiL ehT erofeB" (lastdaydeaf.com)

I'm inside the almost total darkness in a liquid cell. I do not know how I got here. I do not remember anything of my life up to now, who I am, how I lived. To be a prisoner, perhaps I have committed a crime. Maybe this is my punishment.
I must remember the past to find out what I did to end up here. Unfortunately I have no memories. Darkness covers my mind. My first thought is “Perhaps I have died”. But I know I am alive. I breathe normally, I can move my hands, my feet in my liquid cell.
“Who am I? How did I end up here?” This thought wanders through my mind. Whenever I open my eyes, I see some faint colours, colours that I cannot discriminate. At times suffocating, I want to cry, to shout out loud. Not so much to ask for help, but to hear the sound of my voice, help me recall who I am. But in vain. The more I try the less sound I make.
How strange life is! Suddenly, out of nowhere, to be imprisoned, not to remember who I am or what I have done!
My hands shift again. My cell is strange. Beyond the moisture, the walls are strange.  It isn’t concrete; it is as if they’re made of rubber.
Now I start to feel more afraid… Probably I am in some mental hospital in a semi-conscious state, worried that if I come round I’ll begin beating on the walls.
“So then I’ve gone mad? Is that it?”  The thought takes a stronger hold. Unfortunately this is the only explanation. A shame, because I thought when you went mad, you would be in a beautiful place, with music, with colours, able to live every moment as if it were eternal.
Immersed in my darkness, suddenly I hear sounds like someone talking, something being said. Perhaps it was all in my mind. After all, in the state I have found myself in anything is possible.
A little while later I hear the same sound again. It’s a woman’s voice. It must be coming from the neighbouring cell. I try to shout to her, talk to her, and tell her something, anything. But still I remain voiceless, without even hearing myself.
The woman continues to talk; now I can hear it more clearly. However, the language she speaks is unknown to me. I have never heard it before. Nevertheless, I try to listen as carefully as I can. I will be happy if I understand what she says.
After a while, I hear another voice too. It’s a man’s voice this time. It is quite loud, sounding too harsh on my ears, not allowing me to understand anything.
Is the guard shouting about something that has happened, something that has angered him?
How much I would like him to come to my cell, to see him a little, to be able to talk to him to find out who I am and how I ended up here. But the guard is just speaking with the woman in the next cell. To be precise, shouting. I hear him shouting loudly.
Suddenly, there is a deafening noise. I pass out. I do not remember anything else.
I am brought round by the crying of the woman in the adjacent cell. I try again to talk to her, to say something, to hear my voice at least. Unfortunately, I only hear the woman continuing to cry.
The only thing I manage to do is to open my eyes to see the usual strange pictures with strange colours.
I do not know what drugs they could be giving me, I do not know if all these things are real or dreams we have when fainting. I know that lately, when I open my eyes, the colours have become a little more intense. However, I cannot differentiate between them, and I do not remember their names. Only the flashes that I see are distinguishable, but these too may be a figment of my imagination.
I look around me again. Again I cannot see anything, not even my cell door. Now I hear another noise — intense in monotonous repetition. I have been hearing it now for some time, but nowit is much louder. The sound pierces my ears, does not allow me even to think, does not stop at all.
This sound must be some method of treatment. If it is to test my strength, then yes, they have succeeded. I have to overcome it. Try to ignore it, to gather my thoughts, on who I am, and why they are keeping me here.
I get up with difficulty. My body hurts everywhere. I probably hurt myself before, when I fainted. I proceed towards the cell door but as much as I look, as much as I grope my way around, I cannot find it. “If only there were at least a little more light in here” I think. My thoughts are interrupted by the guard’s voice. He speaks again to the woman. Now his voice sounds a little clearer. I hear only scattered phrases, words such as “will not …” “never …” “… what do you think.” I hear the woman crying, begging him. The guard now sounds angrier, shouting loudly, so loudly that I cannot make sense of the words. The woman cries loudly, sometimes I hear her begging him. I start to shout loudly myself: “Stop!! STOP!! “. My cell is violently shaken by the same strange noise.  Again I faint.
Now there is silence. I come round a little dazed. Naturally the loud noise continues to pierce my ears. Nevertheless, I manage to make out the argument, the scattered words of the jailer with the prisoner next to me.
I make another attempt to talk to her. She does not answer. I shout out to her, but again nothing. I get nervous, I get claustrophobic. I feel as though the walls are bearing down on me. I can’t take it anymore! I shout out “Who am I? Where am I?”
I begin to strike hard against the walls falling on them with all my strength. I do not care if I bleed; I do not care about anything except knowing why they have me in this cell.  I am screaming, beating the walls. “Can anybody hear me?”
An hour later, I do not have any more strength. I lie down on the floor, and start crying. Someday I will learn what has been done; only I do not know when. With these thoughts, lying on the warm floor of my cell, I fall asleep.
I wake up again with a start. My cell has started to shake again. I stand up, not knowing exactly why. Perhaps to better understand what is happening. And then, I hear voices again. Many voices. Speaking quickly, I cannot understand what they are saying. I do not even have the strength to cry. Fortunately there are no more earthquakes, or whatever it was that made my cell shake.
Now the voices can be clearly heard. Very clearly! I hear the voice of a man say: ‘Scalpel’, ‘Incision’.  I hear the sound that the skin makes as it is being cut! I hear the phrase, “at least save the baby!”
And I understand! All my queries disappear immediately! Dissolved as if they had never existed! Even the monotonous noise I heard has now stopped!
I am smiling. I smile ironically, because I have finally decided not to take part in this “game”. I have decided to abstain. Decided not to become ME. To stay whatever I am now. Not to come with you. Not to become a child of a dead mother. Not to become a child of an imprisoned father. I see only my cell illuminated brightly. I see two huge hands taking me out into the light! I hear the doctor saying emotionally: “A pity the child was born dead. A shame – it has such a beautiful smile on its face.”


Τετάρτη 3 Αυγούστου 2016

(5) "οίερταιχυΨ οτΣ ηκίλΑ Η"

¨αρέΜ αίατυελεΤ ιχΟ Η"
-----------------------------

εδω κ πολες μερες η Αλικη δε βγαινει απο το θαλαμο της οταν ειναι μερα. για καποιο περιεργο λογο, φοβαται το φως. καθεται κλεισμενη μεσα χωρις να κανει τιποτα. μερικες φορες μιλαει στον εαυτο της, μια "συνηθεια" που ακομα κουβαλαει.
η μονη παρεμβαση που εχει κανει στο χωρο της, ειναι οτι εχει καλυψει με χαρτι το μικρο παραθυρο κρατωντας την ετσι στο σκοταδι.

εχουν περασει πολλες μερες που η Αλικη βγαινει μονο οταν βραδυαζει.
σημερα ομως, αποφασισε να πολεμησει τον αγνωστο φοβο της για το φως. τον αγνωστο φοβο της για τον Ηλιο.
καθισμενη στην ακρη του κρεβατιου της, περιμενει τη στιγμη που θα αποφασισει να βγει στο προαυλιο. ειναι ακομα νωρις, ο Ηλιος θα μεινει αρκετη ωρα να φωτιζει το Ψυχιατρειο. παρολα αυτα, φοβαται. μερικες φορες κανει να σηκωθει, αλλά αμεσως σταματαει.

εχει περασει αρκετη ωρα, κ η Αλικη ακομα δεν εχει βγει στο φως.

"πρεπει να βγω. πρεπει ολα αυτα να σταματησουν! πρεπει να σταματησω να φοβαμαι" ειπε.

αργα αργα σηκωθηκε. αφου βγηκε απο το θαλαμο της, κατευθυνθηκε προς το προαυλιο. ευτυχως, ο διαδρομος δεν ηταν φωτεινος, αυτο τη βοηθουσε να πολεμησει τη φοβια της.
λιγα μετρα πιο μακρυα, η Αλικη ειδε στη στροφη του διαδρομου να πεφτει ο Ηλιος. ενα σημειο στο τοιχο ηταν πολυ φωτισμενο. η Αλικη κοντοσταθηκε φοβισμενη. ηθελε να γυρισει τρεχοντας πισω στο θαλαμο της. 

 "πρεπει να βγω. πρεπει ολα αυτα να σταματησουν! πρεπει να σταματησω να φοβαμαι" ξαναειπε.

συνεχισε σιγα σιγα να περπαταει. πλεον το φως ηταν σχεδον δίπλα της, η Αλικη αρχισε να μη νιωθει καλα. ηταν ετοιμη να λιποθυμησει.
συνεχισε ομως να περπαταει μεχρι το προαυλιο. το φως γινοταν ολο κ ποιο καυτο. της εκαιγε το δερμα, της εκαιγε τη ψυχη. η Αλικη ομως δε σταματησε. συνεχισε μεχρι να βγει στο προαυλιο. συνεχισε μεχρι που ενιωσε τον ανεμο να τη τραβαει μακρυα.

κανείς τελικα δεν την ειδε. η Αλικη χαθηκε ξαφνικα. δεν την βρηκαν ουτε στο θαλαμο της, ουτε στο προαυλιο, ουτε σε κανενα χωρο στο Ψυχιατρειο. τι κ αν εγιναν τοσες ερευνες? τι κ αν τιμωρηθηκαν οι υπευθυνοι? η φυγη της Αλικης ηταν ενα μυστηριο που ποτέ δεν ελυσαν! 

η ιστορια της ηταν ενα θεμα που ποτέ δε σταματησε να απασχολει τους υπευθυνους. ετσι ξαφνικα, χαθηκε η Αλικη! ενα αλυτο μυστηριο για ολους, για ολους ομως οσους δε προσεξαν οτι οταν χαθηκε η Αλικη, την ιδια στιγμη φυτρωσε μια ανεμωνη σε μια γωνια του κηπου!

ξαφνικα η Αλικη ανοιξε τα ματια! ηταν ξαπλωμενη στο κρεβατι της. το μικρο παραθυρο της ηταν καλυμμενο με χαρτι μην αφηνοντας το φως να περσαει μεσα. ο φοβος της Αλικης για το φως υπηρχε ακομα. τι κ αν μολις ξυπνησε απο μία ομορφη πραγματικοτητα? το ονειρο της συνεχιζοταν, ο φοβος της το ιδιο.

 

Σάββατο 23 Ιουλίου 2016

"αίλυανυΣ αίατυελεΤ αίΜ"

ηταν καθισμενος στο τραπεζι στο μικρο του δωματιο. εδω κ αρκετη ωρα κοιτουσε μια θηκη. δισταζε να την ανοιξει. δισταζε, διοτι μεσα στη θηκη ηταν ολη του η ζωη, ολα του ονειρα.
η ωρα περνουσε, ο Κ ηξερε οτι δεν ειχε αρκετη. με προσοχη επιασε τη θηκη στα χερια του. τελικα πηρε μια βαθια ανασα κ την ανοιξε.
μεσα στη θηκη ηταν ενα βιολι. ναι, ενα απλο βιολι ηταν. κ ομως, τι αναμνησεις του ξυπνησε! θυμηθηκε τις συναυλιες που εδινε οταν ηταν νεος. τον κοσμο απο κατω που τον κοιτουσε εκστασιασμενος. τον ηχο που τον ταξιδευε μακρυα! αυτη ηταν η ζωη του, αυτο μονο τον ενοιαζε! ουτε η φημη, ουτε τα λεφτα. μονο να παιζει μπροστα σε κοινο, να ταξιδευει σε αλλους κοσμους μεσω της μουσικης του! ηθελε παλι να ζησει αυτη τη στιγμες, εστω κ τωρα στα γεραματα του, εστω κ τωρα, με κοινο αντι για ανθρωπους μονο τον ηχο του βιολιου.
θα μπορουσε να νιωσει οπως παλια? οι εικονες θα ηταν ιδιες? δεν ηξερε, αλλά συντομα θα το μαθαινε.
σηκωθηκε ορθιος, κρατουσε το βιολι στα περιεργα πλεον δακτυλα του. εκανε μια υποκλιση σα να ηταν κοινο απο κατω. 
ξεκινησε να παιζει, το βιολι ομως ειχε αλλο ηχο. τα περιεργα πλεον δακτυλα του δε μπορουσαν να παιξουν. οι εκονες δεν ηταν πλεον ιδιες. ουτε ενιωσε οπως παλια. δε σταματησε ομως. συνεχιζε να παιζει βιολι βγαζοντας αντι για μουσικη περιεργους ηχους. του εφτανε αυτο, του εδινε δυναμη. λιγο λιγο το χαμογελο στο προσωπο του μεγαλωνε. σταματησε, οταν επαιξε τη τελευταια νοτα.
ο Κ βρεθηκε μετα απο αρκετες μερες. ηταν πεσμενος στο πατωμα, στο χερι του κρατουσε το αγαπημενο του βιολι.


Δευτέρα 11 Ιουλίου 2016

".πΜ .Μ"

ποσο ευκολα ειναι ολα
με ενα χαμογελο!
ποσο ομορφη
ειναι πολλες φορες
η σιωπη!
εσυ εδειχνες
εγω ακολουθουσα.

"η ζωη
εχει αξία
αναλογα
με τη ματιά
που της δινουμε"
τα χωρις να ακουστουν
λογια σου.

τα ακουσα,
τα καταλαβα.

δε ξερω που εχω φτασει,
αλλά εχω προχωρησει.
δε ξερω αν θα φτασω
εκει που παω
ξερω οτι θα προχωρω

...σε ευχαριστω, κ καλο Παραδεισο θειε...

Παρασκευή 17 Ιουνίου 2016

"ςήγυφαιΔ οιδώλαΚ"

Η σειρηνα καθαρισμου συνειδησης ηχησε δυνατα. ο Κ πεταχτηκε αμεσως απο ο κρεβατι του. προσεκτικα (οπως καθε μερα εδω κ πολλα χρονια) αρχισε να ντυνεται. τοποθετησε με επιτυχια τα μάτια του στις θεσεις του. τα αυτια του το ιδιο. με επιτυχια εβαλε στη σωστη τους θεση τα χερια του κ τα πόδια του. σχεδον τιποτα δεν το δυσκολεψε, εκτός απο τη καρδια του. αυτη, τον κουρασε αρκετα, στο τελος ομως καταφερε να την βαλει στη σωστη της θεση. χαρουμενος που για πρωτη φορα στη ζωη του τα καταφερε, σταθηκε μπροστα στο καθρεπτη.

"επιτελους!! επιτελους τα καταφερα!!" αναφωνησε.

χωρις να χασει χρονο, ανοιξε το συρταρι στο κομοδινο. εβγαλε απο μεσα μία θηκη. εκει, ειχε φυλαγμενο ενα καλωδιο. δεν ηταν πολυ μεγαλο, κοντα στο ενα μετρο. για την ακριβεια ηταν ακριβως 77 ποντους. ακουμπησε το καλωδιο  προσεκτικα στο πατωμα. αφου βεβαιωθηκε οτι το ειχε τοποθετησει στο σωστο σημειο κ πως ειχε κανει ολα οσα του ειχαν υποδειξει οι φωνες, εκλεισε τα μάτια του. ψιθυρισε καποια χωρις νοημα λογια κ με μια κινηση  ο Κ μπηκε μεσα στο καλωδιο. προχωρησε αρκετα. στη αρχη ηταν πολυ σκοτεινα. διεκρινε μονο ποντικια κ αραχνες στο δρομο του. υστερα απο αρκετη ωρα το μερος αρχισε να φωτιζεται, σημαδι οτι εφτανε στην ακρη του καλωδιου. πραγματι, μερικα βηματα μετα ο Κ στεκοταν στην αλλη ακρη. εκει, το φως ηταν εντονο, ο αερας φυσουσε δυνατα. ειχε φτασει πλεον σε ενα πολυ ψηλο σημειο. χωρις να χασει χρονο κοιταξε κατω. για πρωτη φορα εβλεπε το κοσμο απο τοση αποσταση. του φανηκε περιεργη, μα κ ομορφη αυτη η αισθηση. αφου χαμογελασε, εκανε ενα βημα στο κενο.

οχι, ο Κ δεν επεσε, δεν χτυπησε με δυναμη στο παγωμενο πεζοδρομιο. ο Κ συνεχισε να ανεβαινει ψηλα χαμογελαστος. ειχε αφησει πισω του το παρελθον. ειχε καταφερει για πρωτη φορα να ταιριαξει απολυτα τα κομματια του εαυτου του. ειχε καταφερει να περασει μεσα απο το καλωδιο οπως ακριβως του ελεγαν εδω κ καιρο οι φωνες. ο Κ πλεον ηταν ελευθερος.

Σάββατο 4 Ιουνίου 2016

"ees i tahw ton" (lastdaydeaf.com)

Mr. K.P. is a neurosurgeon. Despite his relatively young age (only 47), he is considered the leading doctor in his country. For him, there are no working hours, schedule or public holidays. He’s treated an array of patients and, if there is something he is proud of, it is his guaranteed success rate:  nearly 90%!
Today had been a difficult day.  He had just finished a long operation— a brain tumour almost no doctor would have taken the risk of operating on. But Mr. K.P. didn’t just take the risk – he managed to save the patient’s life. Although the next 24 hours after the surgery would be crucial, K.P. was certain that everything had gone well.
Now, in his office, he was trying to calm down. He had closed his eyes, sitting comfortably in his chair —a habit that helped him distance himself from his environment — while the sound system played one of his favourite composers, Johann Sebastian Bach. As he was relaxing to the music, he heard some whispering, people talking to each other… about him? Immediately, he opened his eyes to an empty room. That frustrated him, because it was the seventh time that this had happened lately, always accompanying intense mental fatigue. Although he was a doctor, he paid no attention. He looked at his watch; it was already night time. After talking with his secretary about next day’s schedule, he left the hospital to go home.
Mr. K.P. lived alone. His hectic working life had deprived him of a wife.  He’d only had short term relationships, nothing more substantial.  A part of him might like the idea of getting married and having a family but his life was dedicated to medicine. Each day passed in the same way: going to the hospital and, rarely, going out with the few friends he had, and, in what seemed like the blink of an eye, he was approaching fifty.
He arrived home and, tired as he was, he poured a small glass of red wine to drink.  He had no appetite; he just wanted to relax in his armchair before going to bed. But then again, sometime after he had closed his eyes, he heard the same voices; people whispering about something incomprehensible. This time, Mr. K.P. was scared because this had never happened at home before. All previous occurrences were in his office, after a long operation. He assumed (probably out of fear) that he would have to worry only if it happened again.
He lay tired in his bed. He calmed down, although it took him some time and fell quickly asleep waking up terrified a bit later. He heard the same voices again but now one of them was heard very clearly. It was a woman’s voice, but what shocked him was that he heard her calling his name!  Was it reality or a dream? He did not know what to believe.
It was already four o’clock in the morning and K.P. could not sleep; such was his anxiety. Fortunately for him, he didn’t have to perform an operation the next day; it was a day for seeing patients in his office. He got out of bed, went to the living room, and poured himself a glass of red wine again to calm himself down. He didn’t even think about sleeping any more. He was afraid of hearing the voices again. Sitting in his armchair, he started thinking happy thoughts, being with a nice woman, holding her close.
Suddenly, a loud noise was heard—like an explosion. But quickly that noise disappeared. He started to worry: this has happened for the third time in such a short time! He was a doctor; he’d had his six-month check-up a month before. His health was just fine. So, what could it be? Besides stress, he couldn’t think of any other cause of this. K.P. felt very bad because, out of nowhere, he was starting to suspect that something was wrong with him. Tomorrow after the clinic he would undergo some new tests.
He got up from his armchair. Anxious as he was, he began to walk up and down in the living room. He was trying to think about different things only to relieve his mind from the voices and the “explosion”.
But in vain! No matter what his mind returned to this. He’d been walking for a long time, but when he looked at his watch he realized only ten minutes had passed. “Time flies – sometimes in strange ways!” he thought. Disappointed so, he continued to walk until suddenly he heard the same female voice calling him by his name, talking to him: “K. can you hear me? Can you hear me talking to you?  He tried to reply, to ask her who she was, but he could not open his mouth! He tried to move his hands to show her that he could not speak! But the female voice asked again: “K. can you hear me? Can you hear me talking to you? “
Some time later, K.P. opened his eyes. He saw some strange shapes in front of him. In the beginning he didn’t realize what they were, he needed a few seconds to understand that what he saw were the legs of a table and chairs. K.P. had fainted.
He got up slowly and sat with difficulty in the armchair. His head was about to explode from intense pain. “Tomorrow I will run tests immediately”, he thought. His fear began to have a name.  He was afraid that he had a brain tumour. What an irony! He who had saved all these people, now becoming ill with the same disease! But that’s life; it comes and goes through our hands in any way it wishes.
Naturally, his psychological state was quite weird now, wanting to cry and somewhat to explode, but trying to keep calm. Anyway he was not sure exactly what he might have. Anything was possible.
The next day would be the most critical of his life. At least that’s what he thought. Of course the truth was very different. So different, that it’d be better if he never found out about it, because then he would surely die.
Mr K.P. was not a doctor. He was a simple employee in a company. Yes, his dream was to become a doctor, but life most of the time has its own laws. Seven months ago, Mr K.P. had fainted. Since then he had never recovered. His wife took him to the hospital. The diagnosis was that he had a brain tumour. He had had surgery as soon as possible, but after the surgery he fell into a coma. The voices that he was hearing were the dialogues between his wife and the doctors.  They were the words his wife was telling him every day while gently holding his hand. While the ones around him knew K.P. was in a coma, he (unknowingly) was trying to live a life that he really thought he liked. The life of a doctor who saves people!
Who knows if we who now live our lives are not ourselves in a deep coma? How many of us would like to awaken to find our true family? Would we leave what we had created, family and friends, for the truth? Or would we be afraid that this truth would be another death for us?

Πέμπτη 2 Ιουνίου 2016

".Π.Κ ςοιρύΚ Ο" (120lekseis.com)

Ο κυριος Κ.Π. ειναι ενα εξεχων προσωπο της κοινωνιας. Ειναι γιατρος που μοναδικο του σκοπο εχει να βοηθαει τους συνανθρωπους του. σα πολιτης εχει παρει μερος σε διάφορες εκδηλωσεις βοηθειας που κανει η κοινωνια. σα γιατρος ποτέ δε παιρνει λεφτα απο απορους κ αυτο ο κοσμος το εκτιμα. τωρα μαλιστα που θα κατεβει υποψηφιος βουλευτης ολοι στοιχηματιζουν στην εκλογη του. το ιδιο κ ο ιδιος που πισω απο το καλοσυνατο χαμογελο του κρυβει ενα μυστικο. στο υπογειο της μονοκατοικιας του εχει φυλακισμενη μία κοπελα επτα χρονων. καθε βραδυ βγαζει τα αγρια ενστικτα του πανω στο κορμι της.
κανείς δεν ξερει αυτο το μυστικο απο το περιβαλλον του, ο Κ.Π. τοσα χρονια το κρυβει  καλα πισω απο το καλοσυνατο χαμογελο του.