necessary.
What radio station?
The children have a radio station
at school.
It’s not very powerful, but still...
It’s on round the clock.
For fallen humans
like us.
Listen to it.
This is security!
Stop! Stop!
What are you doing here?
It’s okay, I’ve got my ID.
Here.
- All right.
- Everything's okay.
How did you get here?
Were you hiding?
I wasn't here.
I just dropped in.
I sensed there was someone here.
Why did you come?
I came for you.
You're strange.
Well, we'll have
time to talk.
Go now.
You can hear my voice, right?
Go.
I would put it this way:
The twilight of existence
thickens into ashen shadows
on the edges
of austere objectivity.
Uncategorized
and nameless ghosts
come close
and invisibly pass through us.
It’s here,
at the apex of uncertain,
unguaranteed
and undefined
human existence,
that a certain clarity
is first achieved
and the global night
is illuminated.
The real, though horrible,
meaning of our life not in a world,
but somewhere between worlds,
not in fixed reality,
but in its displacement and formation,
not in the home,
but in aimless wandering.
If I understood you correctly,
you're saying that
truth has not
been found yet,
only the Mayan veil
has been turned inside out
and things can be
seen from reverse,
not from the side where
he consoles and comforts,
but from the side of Nothingness,
which reveals that
our own existence
is merging with Nothingness.
Well, yes, that's one way
of putting it.
What's that strange
sound in the hall?
It’s in a room above.
They're studying hyperspace.
Hyperspace?
Interesting.
- This is an unusual school.
- Do you like it?
Very much.
- Here?
- Yes, go in.
Thanks.
Hello.
Please sit down.
So how are you, kids?
Is everything all right?
Do you miss your parents or not?
Tell me,
is everything all right?
Everything is fine.
Then let's talk about literature.
Would this esteemed audience
like to hear how I write?
No.
Well then...
What questions do you have?
How would you want
to see us in the future?
It’s simple.
Smart. Honest.
Kind.
I'd like you
to love your work
and work only for the good of people.
What's ''smart''?
''Smart''?
Good grief.
Maybe you'd like to ask
what a ''human'' is?
Or what ''time'' is?
We know
that question has no answer.
But would like to hear
how you answer it.
I'll try.
So, a smart person
is one
who knows
that his knowledge
is imperfect and limited,
who tries to learn more
and succeeds in that.
Do you agree?
No.
Why not?
Your definition is not functional.
By it any fool
could call himself smart.
And a successful fool will be
considered the smartest of all.
There's an old aphorism
that says a fool is just a person
who thinks differently.
Or feels differently.
I don't understand.
You want us
to be smart,
that is, to think
and feel like you.
But I found nothing
but negation in your books.
Nothing positive.
Thus a smart
person like you
can feel nothing
but disgust for people.
On the other hand, you want
us to work for the good of people,
that is, for the good
of those disgusting characters
who fill
your books
and whom you negate in every line.
Can a smart person work for
the good of disgusting people?
You see,
by ''work for the good of people''
I mean
changing them from
disgusting to admirable.
This is rather banal.
It’s not a matter of
what and how to change.
The point is
that the objects you depict
don't wish to be
changed, as you say,
from disgusting
to admirable.
You really think
I write only of scoundrels?
I’m sorry, I...
That's not the issue here.
I’m thrown off because
you talk like adults.
But you're children.
And so maybe
it's hard for you to understand
that this unshaven,
dirty, drunken,
hysterical coot
might be
a wonderful person,
someone
you feel like falling on your knees
before and consider it an honor
to shake his hand,
since he went
through such... hell
that it makes