Three Things About Me

1. I would sit forever on an empty beach, watching the hypnotic dance of waves, as they weave their lace of lather on the sand, listening to their monotonous rustling, pierced occasionally by the caw of seagulls. The air is pure salt. The light is harsh, almost painful. The waters sparkle, reflecting maybe the hidden cities in the depths. Cities of octopuses, of course, or of Atlanteans.
The sea is a repository of all mysteries. I recall one of Robert Silverberg’s brilliant novellas, “Homefaring”, where the hero is sent forward in time by a million years, among intelligent lobsters, and wise octopuses, who by then have inherited the Earth.
Time stands still on this beach of mine; the world is just beginning or has just ended – I will not move for I know that, if I did, just a little further up the beach I will have to fall on my knees in front of the Statue of Liberty…
Even better, I’m outside of Time, untouched by it, its cruel arrow aimless, myself a contemplator of the absolute…

2. I’m afraid of bees, and wasps, and all their relatives. I suppose it has something to do with their buzzing. When I hear it, I feel it burrowing into my brain, and all I can do is crouch and hide my head, foolishly hoping I’ve become insignificant enough so that they won’t notice me anymore. It worked so far – I never got stung by one. And, I like honey.

3. I think that all life is beautiful, invaluable, miraculous. We are all very much the same, built by Nature, or by chance, or by somebody else, to the same patterns. No creature is repugnant to me, be it a worm, a rat, a snake. I love bats. I couldn’t kill a fly. If I find a spider in my house, I catch it with a cup and take it outside. I have a hard time pruning my plants. My hypocrisy is great, though: I’m an omnivore. I eat, and my heart sheds silent tears…