The Great Ski-Lift. Anton Soliman

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СКАЧАТЬ to an old man speaking in dialect. Everyone was wearing a hat despite the huge terracotta stove in a corner almost concealed by smoke.

      The smiling bartender pointed out a free table. While sipping on a glass of warm wine, Oskar thought the experimental connection could hardly be a viable alternative for the Christmas holidays. It now seemed obvious his friend had spun a simplified, albeit not false, picture of the situation. There were possible problems along the road, which he'd not even considered. This was far from an all-inclusive holiday as organized by tourist agencies. This particular outing was completely free form and required a determined mind-set.

      Yet, his own ravaged being was in complete turmoil: a consequence of living inconsistently for years.

      His position at Valle Chiara had become paradoxical. The initial friendly information provided was inconsistent, at least insofar as advice on a winter holiday can be. Besides, he could not pretend photographic knowledge for places not even visited yet. His expectations had grown to the point of being cumbersome. What did he expect from this holiday? What had generated his initial enthusiasm? He couldn't expect to arrive in a trendy tourist village, much less to find a place with all modern conveniences. He had probably imagined something similar to Valle Chiara, but once here, it all became a blur. The -State of Things- was already starting to fade......

       When in the Present, life's original colours appear in those paused beats, the intermediate zones between one event and the next.

       Yesterday, when faced with the cable car, he felt a twinge of fear and an overwhelming, seemingly insolvable loneliness. In some ways, he had only considered the background, a kind of blank canvas on which to draw Christmas images. Without taking heed of his hunger for being Recognized and Welcomed by his peers. After the rituals he could then divest his own Structure, like a heavy backpack, and let himself be absorbed by the scenery. The mountain area expecting him would erupt in a dance to welcome his arrival.

      He would return to the City tomorrow, spending Christmas in this desolate valley was not a good choice. He had friends in town, on Christmas Eve he could feast on stuffed turkey at Giuseppe's house. Chores to get busy with, spend a few days sorting himself out before returning to work. Take Elise to the theatre, it had been ages since the last time.

      A local started creatively insulting his fellow card-player, but after some hurried explanations, returned to playing cards scowling. The bartender was talking to a customer. A young woman with a tray full of clean glasses entered through a side door. Her face was flushed despite the light clothing. She put away the glasses on the shelves and then hurried, almost running back to the side door. A few minutes later, she returned embracing wooden logs destined for the stove.

      Oskar admired her absorption in the work, the body confident and focused in its movements, and oblivious to the surrounding environment. The woman's rapt look sparked a feeling of envy mixed with admiration: he suddenly imagined being the one carrying out the simple chores.

      From the window, wet snow briefly glistened before melting with the muddy road.

      - I knew I'd find you here! - was Clara's greeting.

      Oskar was surprised to see anyone he knew in this strange village. In a spontaneous burst of affection, he stood up and hugged the young woman. - So glad to see you! I was starting to get a bit maudlin sitting here alone.

      - Sorry to hear that.

      - I'm feeling confused due to maybe having different expectations. This story behind the Great Ski Lift has made me a bit uncertain.

      - I see! - exclaimed a bemused Clara. On remembering that morning's arrangement, she ventured: - What did the manager say? Can you reach the plateau using the new station?

      - That's exactly the point. The manager assured me that everything is working. The station was built to develop tourism, although legally it's still a grey area. Yet, according to him, that's not an issue for users.

      - Don't worry, that's not so important. You can spend the holidays with us anyway. There's not a lot to do right now, the seasonal hunters only arrive when winter is ending. We can go on some nice hikes and have a great Christmas even without gracing the ski slopes.

      He was pleased to hear these words and the focus of Clara's tender gaze. He liked this woman.

      When they headed back to the tavern for lunch, she helped him place the luggage in her grandparent’s room, where Oskar had slept the night before. Clara lit the wood in a fireplace that had seemed unused for many years. The room filled with smoke, and they both attempted to clean the hood aided by a broom handle.

      In the kitchen, the owners had already finished eating.

      - Morning, Mr Zerbi! said the innkeeper smiling – My wife and like to breakfast early so we can get on with our daily chores. Don't worry though, our daughter can keep you company.

      - So, what do you think about staying in Valle Chiara for Christmas? Clara hinted after eating, taking the plates to the sink.

      - Why not. Not taken a decision yet about the cable car to the plateau...to be honest, I did not expect things to be so complicated. I think I'll stay here with you for a few more days.

      Clara seemed pleased with his decision. Yet he was in two minds. The original Christmas idea was compromised, but neither did he feel moved to make other plans. He was essentially discouraged, only seeing a jumbled mess that curtailed any attempt at freedom.

      He went tiredly to bed, a pin prickling sensation on his brain. He lay on the bed, staring in the semi-darkness at the hanging and arranged objects on the walls. Some serious antiques or kitsch bargains the hoteliers probably bagged at village jumble sales. Souvenirs that should be meaningless to him, but conditioned by his memories they took on a familiar form, an experience similar to the one in the hotel's kitchen. It was the -archaic- part of his Being.

      Everything begins in our defenceless childhood, when by definition there's agency to choose favourable situations. Oskar considered the collection of memories during -life- as a bizarre quirk of existence. This meant that the Being is forever enclosed in a kind of aquarium. A banality he had never really thought about. Sometimes he meditated on the possibility of prenatal life or reincarnation, although feeling these were fanciful notions that did not go beyond explanations for deja vu.

      He fell asleep dreaming of sliding over a long, perfectly smooth wave without the slightest ripple. Must be an important dream he wanted to linger in. Perhaps an Archetype represented by pure symbolic forms, such as an undulating motion.

      When his eyes opened it was pitch black outside. The room was still lit by the fireplace's dancing flames. He felt exhausted. He regretted leaving the city, even knowing he was living badly there – drowning hopelessly in the uselessness that tarnished his soul. Besides, he had been sick for too long to keep hoping for a resurrection. His survival had hinged on using emotions to such a point they had become permanently deformed. He decided to go back to the City the following day. The alternative was staying in the hotel begging the owner's daughter for company, who had maybe set the whole thing up deliberately. Clara was pretty, from what he had glimpsed so far. She seemed to live a rather compact life, one in which thoughts existed in a solid state.

      By now the idea of the Great Ski Lift seemed an impossible undertaking. Oskar was in no state to face the cable car alone, much less swing aloft in some remote cove. He would never survive the ordeal, annihilated by an immensity he could not absorb.

      Despite his fragility, there were moments the discomfort dropped away and he dreamed of wandering the world alone, СКАЧАТЬ