The Impartial Observers

The Impartial Observers

Albert got up and brushed off the little snow, which had got stuck on his lap while he had knelt in it for some time. At this moment, it seemed to him as the most logical thing he could have done. To brush off the snow. Or rather the only thing? The omnipresent white infinity extended as far as he could see. Nothing but the snow, nothing but the sky. The sky dimly white, reminiscent of tea with milk, the snow slightly clearer. The world of which he was just a part was firmly determined to do with these two mere elements. No, he assured himself, I could have done nothing, as well.

We should straightly admit to ourselves that our hero was proceeding with considerable difficulties. The snow, even if forming a frozen crust on the top, was otherwise very soft and Albert was sinking into it approximately to the half of his calfs. Now and then he tried to consider the problem of where his steps were aiming. However, through any analyses of this question, he was only confirming himself in the impression that his situation was ridiculous. Most likely, it would not have been unnatural to treat it as a relatively serious one; with the regard to the fact that one has neither any constructive idea about the world around him nor has he it about the place where he is just going. Because as far as the eye can see you can only remark the sky and the snow. On the other hand, with some advanced time, Albert somehow assured himself that something cannot be quite serious in case it lacks what we tend to call common sense.

These ones of us, who have ever experienced a tour in deep show, know well it has nothing to do with pleasure. An entirely different situation arises if there is someone else with us to take turns in tracking out the path. But Albert was, wherever he moved, always the centre of the horizont. And the horizont was always where the two shades of white met. Our hero kept going on with heavy steps. Nothing on the snowy surface indicated another existence. It was not even ploughed with wind as we usually see it in the nature. An absolute windlessness had taken reign over the „landscape“.

A posibility emerged for a very short instant in our hero’s head. But it later turned out that the monotonous shuffling together with the cracking of snow considered every other reality, except fom itself, an undesirable element. The possibility soon vanished. What was highly important- Albert had firm boots and warm socks. For there is nothing worse than cold invading your body from the ground. And better not to speak about boots which soak as that is really something that would drive one mad. Believe it or not, but the possibility, which had recently crossed our hero’s mind, suddenly came out again from somewhere. Yet his time it was occupying the sole person’s mind with a much more significant intensity. As if long before she had been seeking for a hideout in this emptiness. And then she succeeded. Albert’s brain became her seat and shelter and she was determined to stay there at any cost.

So once it was there- gathering strength and growing in her nastiness. Another step. Two. The  speed with which our hero was advancing… And who cares? He is suddenly interrupting us ferociously. Six steps. Come what may, I don‘t know where the hell I’m goin‘! There ain’t nothin‘ around- only me! What’s the damn matter? I gut stuck in a fucking nightmare, that’s about it! At this moment, we must have spotted lucidly that the earlier mentioned thought had grown up again. Our hero was making big efforts struggling with it, which was apparent from his walk. It had become less certain. Another eighteen steps. In deep snow, an instant long enough for our hero to be absolutely paralyzed by the impression that he was inevitably going to become insane.

All of a sudden, we have observed A CHANGE. Something has seized our attention and cast it away from the entire concern for our hero. The sun has just risen. As if it had not been until now that we realized the change on which our subconsciousness had been counting. The one which had seemed to us the less unexpectable. The most logical one. Amazingly remarkable is that even if we have been witnessing a most grotesque situation, our brain is still carrying out its operations beneath the supervision of Logic. We do not want to give up our sense of causality, our healthy reflection… Thank goodness that we have no time for further analyses of our thoughts because something impressive is going on around us. Something which makes us even feel sorry for not having the gift of great poets. The sun has just lighted up the snowy covering all around us. The dim white has undergone a breathtaking change to a bright, tender whiteness. Several seconds ago we became witnesses of something gorgeous, powerful.

Only us and our hero with his nonsensical, nowhere leading pilgrimage. What is he up to now? It occurs to us. How is he experiencing this event? Suddenly, we are feeling as if someone swashed cold water into our faces. We are about to never learn again. We have let ourselves get distracted so much that we have lost his view. How? He was the only being, the only living existence in the world we have been observing! Or is it now HIM who is monitoring OUR steps in the droll world?