It's summer, awfully sultry, and the sea is so near - the solution is obvious, isn't it? It would take only a few steps to let the tired spirit in an exhausted body find comfort in the cold waves; something that most of the civilized world calls vacation. It's not so simple, though. You need to know how to rest.

I vaguely remember what it looked like before the last, five-year-long war that devastated this land I was condemned to by God and my incomprehensible love for it. I remember the times when man walked here, too. And then the war came. Out of the blue, intolerably arrogant like any unwanted guest who cannot accept to be rejected. On the contrary. Some people I used to have fun with disappeared over night, some others came whose idea of fun I couldn't understand, no matter how hard I tried. To avoid feeling excluded I asked the newcomers to explain the reasons of their joy, which to my dismay, surprised them very much. Shouldn't one know why he is merry? Anyway, after a time, some of them became my other self while the others started avoiding me.

Have you ever seen how the warriors rest? In no way. When they don't shoot, they drink to forget why and who they were shooting at. It [the drinking] seemed the best solution to me too, during the first year of the war - but my war didn't end on time. As any war never ends on time, no matter how long it lasted. After some dreadful hangovers I realized that it had nothing to do with resting ...

© 2004, GENERATOR 21.

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