” Listening Rowe thought, as he often did, that you couldn’t take such an odd world seriously, and yet all the time, in fact, he took it with a mortal seriousness.
The grand names stood permanently like statues in his mind: names like Justice and Retribution, though what they both boiled down to was simply Mr Rennit, hundreds and hundreds of Mr Rennits. But of course if you believed in God — and the Devil — the thing wasn’t quite so comic. Because the Devil — and God too — had always used comic people, futile people, little suburban natures and the maimed and warped to serve his purposes. When God used them you talked emptily of Nobility and when the devil used them of Wickedness, but the material was only dull shabby human mediocrity in either case.”
― “The Ministry of Fear”, Graham Greene
“. . . Yet with all these myriad joys going for him, Hank had never in his life been more unhappy and less able to explain why.
Because in spite of all these things so enjoyable, there was something off kilter. He couldn’t say exactly what was off, but after days of denying it he was finally grudgingly admitting that he and the world just were not seeing eye to eye. And it griped him that this was so.”
– Ken Elton Kesey, “Sometimes a Great Notion”
“All this natural misery,” Dr. Goodsir said suddenly. “Why do you men have to add to it? Why does our species always have to take our full measure of God-given misery and terror and mortality and then make it worse? Can you answer me that, Mr. Hickey?”
– Dan Simmons, “The Terror”
“The way of the world is to bloom and to flower and die but in the affairs of men there is no waning and the noon of his expression signals the onset of night. His spirit is exhausted at the peak of its achievement. His meridian is at once his darkening and the evening of his day. He loves games? Let him play for stakes. This you see here, these ruins wondered at by tribes of savages, do you not think that this will be again? Aye. And again. With other people, with other sons.”
― Cormac McCarthy “Blood Meridian or The Evening Redness in the West”
Half a year ago it was impossible to imagine that there would be necessity to abolish the working day because of possibility of military operations on the territory of my city.
And now the war isn’t just a word noticed by news announcer about country that is located enough far away from the one where I was lucky to live.
Such definition of war is given by wikipedia: «war means to impose your own will to opponent, the conflict between political entities occurring in the form of armed confrontation.»
“War is the continuation of politics by other, violent means” – this wording is given by officer and writer Clausewitz.
Now I have something to tell about this too.
War is to speak with friends about the location of nearest bomb-proof shelters and not to build any plans for the near or the distant future.
War is a necessity to pass by too many block stations equipped with combat weapons.
War means to lend an ear to the least strange sounds.
War means to know that army of your country is shooting at innocent civilian population in the neighbouring town using heavy military equipment and to wait our turn.
War is when there are people who are trying to impose another “truth” with tanks and snipers, trying to impose on people, without concern for the complications, something that goes against all principles, ways of life and values, they want to live with on the land that they love, in friendship with those whom they regard as brothers.
War is when real facts are distorted and all that’s sacred is trampled down.
War is when the people in power haven’t any desire to listen that voice of the masses, which doesn’t help to consolidate a picture of future in their mind.
War is to understand the lyrics of favourite songs on a completely different level.
War is a weeping of your grandma, who in World War II lost her father being a child, hearing the roar of tanks passing by her house.
War is not to hear children’s laughter from the area under your window; it is the rare pedestrians, relatively empty roads and a curfew.
War is when people are burnt in the house of trade-unions in Odessa because of St. George ribbons on their chests and to know that there are too many of those who are happy about this fact.
But there is something I don’t know the definition of.
I wonder, if there is a name for what’s happening when the information is traitorously covered up, while Minister of Defence affirms the need of identification and screening camps and yesterday’s prisoners join the ranks of the Ukrainian army?
Tell me, what it is when Ukrainians are killing other Ukrainians?
I think it is an absurd that is incredible in its monstrous scale!
P.S. I feel as smelly liquid shit. Because while the reality of the modern world hasn’t touched my country, I preferred to avoid that news if there was a probability of loss of composure and nervous balance that could deprive my sound sleep. Patience almost ends, mind is really tired to be in constant tension, trying to understand what is happening around and with all my forces I’m trying not to let hatred inside. But I still have some hopes I won’t tell about.