Marina Glabets’, Sarny

You are coming without having any idea why you deserve to be written or read…I see you, November 1, you’re almost here…It is 00:00 and here we go. So hello, a brand new day in the last month of autumn! I cannot say that you were impatiently waited for, although you can say you had no reasons to hurry up –so proud and earnest, the same as my British-type cat paces to me slowly just to present the ordinary everyday dose of his majesty’s mercy. But he is so unique…What about you, November 1, what makes you special? What traits distinguish you among the other 29 days? Of course, for some people you can be the first, for others the last…And for me you are just another “head over heels” type of day. What if I start with making you up in my mind? It sounds strange, but I see you as a sieve with almost 7 billion holes and people flying through…Or you can be an airy bubble for our planet to dip into it, though while plunging, our careless earth starts an explosive stopwatch inside of you that explodes when the countdown reaches its last point and then you blow up, scattering a billion versions of the past.

What can happen on this day? How many of us are about to fall in love and break out? How many rash or evil deeds are to be done? What are people all over the world doing right now? Are there any happy eyes or sincere smiles or fair answers? These and other questions are running through my head just like subtitles, making my brain heavy and stressed; it’s all because of the music that raises me up to the high mountain and shows its beauty and then pushes down to the deep blue sea, making me live every second of this flight, and then all over again from the start…

You know, November 1, excessive emotionality tires as much as hobbling over the desert (and heat is the thing I can’t stand for a long time), so it forced me to miss almost 4 hours of you by sleeping.

I can’t explain why I like mornings…Actually I can find an answer in some philosophical or psychological sense but I promised myself to be a little bit lighter. Nevertheless, I can only say that it’s the start; I enjoy disentangling all wires I was sleeping with, I like morning’s innocence, purity, whiteness; a sense of lucid mind is especially appreciable, just because of its rareness…Soon, an obsessive disposition for complicating everything and driving myself into a blank corner are going to veil this order in mist, so the thing is in catching it…

So why are you exceptional, November 1? You are the day when I gave myself a little freedom, let my mind fly away, let myself be lost in dreams, give in to relaxation…To be honest, I couldn’t allow myself all these things—actually, they overcame me, filled me up with some inspiring feeling—but it feels more reliable when such things seem like they’re under my control. I don’t want to dive into details like “my granny’s call and her interrogation about what I ate today during you, November 1, and my whimpering about the fact that I’m not a child, though I know that treating me like that makes her feel younger” and so on…If some of you managed to imagine how I could relax (usually people start thinking about something like eating chocolate or dating or drinking), don’t try, I don’t understand some spiritual things like this either…So in the morning I forgot about the time while listening to music (which is almost impossible), and then I was almost late to my first lesson (that is truly a unique event; I cannot be late even if I want to, even on a date, I come 15 minutes before; I still can’t get rid of this invincible non-girlish habit). During my physical-training lesson, I just enjoyed working out with music and forgot about everything—turned off my brain (that happens very seldom too); in English, I read my nonfiction story without stammering and fear (for the first time!); in English, I found something…I can’t tell exactly what, but suddenly I understood that people around me are not just objects of observation for me; I found what I had lost, finally I did understand the meaning of my dream, where the ophthalmologist was making me to look without glasses not at the screen with the letters, but in the mirror…In my last lesson, I allowed myself to be passive, to draw, to think, but not to do that boring analysis of the Cornell’s play “Sid”…On my way home, I met only one interesting man (interesting means that I couldn’t tell what he was thinking about—so mysterious, thoughtful, profound and strong-willed he was)…Finally, at home, two empty jars of coffee reminded me that this evening was short and I should hurry up if I wanted to write about you, November 1…Why did you deserve such attention? Why should I write about my own brand new day in the last month of autumn, while there are so many people who had more significant events in their life…And if you knew that I would write about you, why couldn’t you be more varied, satiating, intricate? Who knows…Sweet dreams!