by pascal dumont (Berlin, Liebigstraße, 14, in front of Lesbian squatte)
Dear Henry Miller
I extend my hand to you, my good friend! And from this friendship to be so non-mutual I am not suffering, because it is enough for me to only admire you. I love you as a man, praise you as a wiseacre with protests, because I see irreconcilable spirit in you, I hear your words, but the face I hear not, not mine long paragraphs I see, but perceive as mine, because I want to smile at them, and at times - to break into pieces!
You are mighty, Henry! With these words I am knocking on the door of your house. I have come to meet. Open up, Henry! Hi, Henry!
People say that you are not dead, but continue to live. They themselves say that you lift yourself by the hair into heaven of personal existence and remained there. If so, my letters will come to you and if you are to have a curiosity to them, revise them. I will hang them all around Berlin along with my pants, I will broadcast every day for seven days, anywhere, or where – I will specifically find places to bespeak to you. I do not know why I am writing to you from this land, and not from my Ukrainian lands, from Galicia, or from the shores of the Black Sea, clean and dirty ones. It would even be prettier if I announce these words to you from there. Have read somewhere that your ancestors had German roots. Well, unless...
Here nothing has changed. World is shivering all the same. Without a historical analysis and without thinking I can tell that it is shivering ever more, but each period has its own shivers, its own pains, and unfinished and unannounced wars, its own interests, Africa is still twitching from poverty, in the U.S. – the first black president, and genius, as ever there, is still not recognized, and that’s what the genius is for. There are no genius individuals because they have not died!
Something new is no longer alive, and something old acquired different value or got filled with juices. World is updating and running somewhere-there every second, and that is why the novelty of it is not perceived. Design, visuals and clothing fuck our brains up – I have 9 bags, someone has 9 pants, they – two pairs of shoes and 12 sandals, but they fill this world with the beauty! Even with such one! Absurdity made up with commonness and took half the customers to itself. People of genius are only a few as always, they are only a handful, but they are similar as if they come from one family. And all the rest – these are all the same! Just want to give birth, and continue to give birth, though mothers if they could, they would even agreed to produce a little dinosaurs, but no – got to give birth to a child! Natural platitudes will not retreat, and already girded humanity, always threatening to flood with water or sprinkle with thirst so that our throats be dried, but still they would not dare. Afraid? Nature has no force?
All the best,
Sasha Shagi
translated by Iryna Solovey (ukr version)
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