Apostle. Юстасия Тарасава

      At first there was darkness. I woke up in something that was warm and very sticky. I stayed there for a while and then decided to get out of this place. I pushed and crawled forward, feeling that somewhere ahead of me there was an exit. The liquid that surrounded me was moving as well. I was trying hard, but had not much strength. Each motion was so tiring, but I made up my mind to get out at all costs. Slowly, but persistently I was moving forward. There came a push, then another one – and suddenly I felt that I was out of my prison. After some convulsive movements I fell on something soft. Having stayed in the darkness for a long time, I was blinded by bright light and lost my bearings. I took my first breath, choked on the liquid that was still around me and coughed loudly. I was born and let everyone present at my birth know about that by this coughing. Someone’s caring hands delivered me from the sticky stuff I felt sick of and laid me down on cozy bedding. Going through the difficulties of my birth had been so tiring that I fell asleep, completely exhausted.

      I spent the first month of my life among my brothers and sisters that were born on the same day. Like me, all of them had got blind after their birth, and it took us more than three weeks to get used to the light and discern objects. We were still too weak to move on our own, but every one of us was making attempts to stand or even walk. Sometimes our legs did not want to obey and we clumsily fell on the floor, being absolute failures in walking.

      When the first month came to an end, I found myself in a dark and narrow place again, with my brothers and sisters beside me. We heard the doors slamming; then there came some noise and rumbling, and then the slamming of the doors again. We were sitting all squashed together and unanimously decided that if we were going to be born again, we would refuse, because we didn’t want to go through this again. But soon my brother and my sister were pulled out, and I was left alone. I was sick of this darkness and afraid that they might have forgotten about me. There was more of that door slamming, noise and rumbling; I was carelessly swayed from side to side. At last, it became quiet and the thing I was inside of was put on the floor. I could tell that because it smelled of linoleum and a little bit of dust. Something squeaked; there was light and the hands of a stranger pulled me outside to give freedom. The owner of these hands kissed me on the nose and put on the floor. I had a strange feeling that I became owned by someone. And at the same time I felt strong awareness that I wanted to go pee. Not being able to resist it, I made a small puddle on the floor and jumped aside. The girl who had kissed my nose laughed and wiped up the puddle.

      It was Wednesday, the Christmas Eve of 1988. And even now, sniffing at the floor, I can find the place where I made the puddle on the day of meeting my mistress.