a Winter trip to the old Slaughter-House
that nearly costed our life.
“Last time I pretend to be the rich, lost, uninformed tourist seeking to buy land to set up a disco”, I promised to her.
Searching for a place appropriate for a movie, was all she knew in the begining, but I was searching for a legend.
On the 2nd of January, we took the boat for the island were the old Slaughter-House was. We wanted to check it and we were very careful. Should the rumors be true we were in great danger. We arrived when the moon was full.
“No, I will never do it again”,
I continued murmuring as we walked backwards pretending to pick up anemones and aromatic leaves from the bushes around.
We continued in this unnatural way until we lost sight of the building and its people.
Now we had to run. Run. In twenty minutes we should reach for the boat , avoid the main road and remember a path I run some twenty years before.
The night was falling quickly and maybe the ship could not enter. Small boat, seven Beaufort wind.
Very few were in the salon. Everything was under a grainy film of salty water.
– What made you think they would believe you were a rich lost tourist? When you have such an appearance!
-Right! I counted exactly on that. If i were truly a very rich person I would be very careful how I look.
– What about your shoes?
– I posed as the very rich and eccentric person who wanted to buy that building and the area around. I visited their area coincidentally and I made to them a very sound and serious proposal. Who would do this in the middle of winter on a shit of an island then, if not a serious rich person?
-Me. because I believed it. I was truly that person. It created to them some doubt, confusion. That we maybe were so stupid and ignorant who thought “we can buy it”. It left them confused, gave us enough time .
-Say after me, “never again”.
-I say after you, “never again”.
Later that night deep under the blankets she asked me in a quiet voice:
– If you do not destroy them, who will develop them?
– I can send them to W. Germany or to Japan.. Fully automated process. No fingers, no eyes.
I prefer the first. A German baker will never question how a family of two buys bread for seven.
It’s not his business. Post WWII privacy complex.
– What if someone wonders for the reason you send your slides abroad?
– There is some space where you must fill your name, address and occupation.
With very calligraphic letters, I write under occupation: Rich.
-Trust me. The more you believe in it, the more it seems so. It will be called “social mechanics” some day and I will father this science. Remember? I asked him when the Grecko-Turkish war will end and he answered “never”. This irrational but logical question from a complete stranger created a discontinuation in his whatever mental functions. We passed through the hut door because of this gap.The question demands an answer not to something one might have or not have the knowledge of, but an answer about something knowledge cannot exist. And there we have a problem.
It works almost to all. You! Answer me, when the Grecko-Roman war will end?
– I want you to swear me something. Will you?
– I will.
– That never ever for as long I live you will show those pictures to anynone. I am very much afraid. We took those pictures in front of them in their place pretending to be stupid tourists. Now they must really be nuts with us. All this mess around in the film. For a supposedly real estate agency!
How did you know the day? Even if they will be affraid to bring it to their “uppers” they know how we look.
Somebody holding really tight my balls with both hands and looking firmly in my eyes expected an answer:
– I swear.