White birds in sorrow
Those white birds who flew away, these are human souls, these are those who were reborn, fill them with grain, let them eat…Let them know that we remember them…
I was so stupid that my life flew by before me, but I didn’t notice it…I didn’t see anything, I just breathed and ran somewhere. I didn’t notice anything, nothing…
Retreat
—What is my heart to you?
—It’s a ray of hope…
A found fragment, like what you lost when summer, kill yourself to find it.
Where do the birds fly?
Perhaps they become ghosts or turn into little shoots.
— Have you lost something?
— No…But I saw a light in the grass, maybe it’s a bird.
—Why do you think there?
—She had feathers. I found one here…
He took a long shard shining like a blade from his pocket and handed it to me. Sharp and cold, it was a bird’s feather and I remembered it, I imprinted the image in my memory.
I would never have thought that this is possible…
Those who once lived, and perhaps did not live, but thought that he lives, also want to be born again, anew, in a better era, have better skin and be better…
Episode three
A bird shining like the sun flew up to me and sat on my shoulder, she sang something in my ear, then rose high into the sky and turned into a point, and then completely disappeared like a finger, became a ghost for me. Is that possible?
She shone brighter than the sun in the darkness, but she was always alone and could never be better or worse, a black raven in the sun and white and shining in the light of a moon star.
I sat on a stone bench and thought, then I took out a notebook and began to write, I began to describe her as a zoologist; I once graduated from the institute and received a master’s degree in zoology and philosophy. And why only? I made a small drawing in the margins, trying to draw a wonderful bright plumage, but I made only a pitiful semblance of a model, I forgot myself about what I should do, and it was a lot…
And I went home, almost forgetting about the incident, forgetting about the miracle.
When you remember everything that is behind, it becomes only dust, dreams are like fragments in the eyes, sometimes they need to be taken out.
©2023 Irina Tall (Novikova)
All rights reserved
Irina Tall (Novikova)…
…is an artist, graphic artist, illustrator. She graduated from the State Academy of Slavic Cultures with a degree in art, and also has a bachelor’s degree in design. Her first solo exhibition “My soul is like a wild hawk” (2002) was held in the Museum of Maxim Bagdanovich. In her works, she raises themes of ecology, in 2005 she devoted a series of works to the Chernobyl disaster, she draws on anti-war topics.
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