CHAPTER 10. THE REDIRECTED IMPULSE

February 10, 2021.

With unhurried poise, a white, arctic fox-colored German car—a sedan from the BMW AG—departed a small but well-known town. This town was renowned not for its local authorities, but for the people who embodied its very soul. The car majestically entered the one environment where it felt more at home than a fish in water: the highway. The car’s blue-eyed owner smiled naturally and sincerely, though not smugly. Although the white BMW 5-Series sedan with the inline six-cylinder M57D25 turbodiesel engine was just over twenty years old—and it should be noted, five years younger than its owner—it fully deserved the highest praise from any true car enthusiast for both its appearance and mechanical qualities.

“...On February 10, 2021, due to the rapidly spreading COVID-19 virus among the urban population, the municipal authorities of Rio de Janeiro decided to cancel this year's previously scheduled annual carnival…” These words, clear and, most importantly, inexorable, sounded from the modest but remarkably sophisticated, by modern standards, car stereo.

“The world will never be the same again,” a remarkably gentle voice whispered, barely audible. It belonged to an exceptionally charming nineteen-year-old daughter of Eve. “Our familiar festivities are being canceled, and new ones are appearing in their place…”

“My sweet little sunbeam, it has never been and never will be what we want it to be,” the twenty-five-year-old BMW owner said with a seemingly impervious calm. “Our world is in a state of permanent change, and it will always be what it is meant to be.” At that moment, his voice truly possessed an amazing power of persuasion... a power that could command not only human will but also a more powerful will—the will of wild nature.

“It's as if the planet itself, as if our whole world under the moon, passionately wishes for people to communicate with each other less… for them to become more withdrawn, and consequently, to look more inward, deep into themselves... for them to discover the mysteries of that existence through the prism of their own perception and, what is more important, their understanding of the world…”

“Perhaps so, my dear... A person should look around as much as possible—out of curiosity or fear—does it matter? Ah! What wonderful poems are on this channel now!” Saying these words, Germaine immediately turned pale. Amidst the blissful spaces of these verses, his ears caught a name... a name that not long ago had truly ignited an untamable flame in his soul, a flame that gave exceptional warmth and light... a name that now, in a most natural way, scorched the most delicate and sensitive fibers of his unique soul.

“...A confession subtler than silk,

That didn’t cloud your youthful hearing—

God knows how long I’ve been in love,

But now, as then, I’m still alone.

In love with you for some reason,

For some reason, I longed to live:

Betrayed by the inclination of Eros,

There’s only one thing I desire—to forget...

To forget how I languished before you,

To forget how I trembled, too,

When you, a Moon in the darkness,

Shone with purity—your destiny!

But it’s not out of pride that I give

These feelings to oblivion:

It is my fate, under Araf’s shade,

To bury my dream,

While your destiny—the destiny of Jannah—

A wondrous, eternal paradise garden,

Where every moment is a soul’s delight,

And a cascade of falling stars for desires...

Upon seeing you in the world’s ripple,

My spirit grasped what life meant:

I saw but one face—Kira—

When I looked tenderly high.

Now, though, I see stars there:

There are many, truly, I was blind.

You didn’t love me more,

The more feelings I gave you…

To forget you… Is it possible?

Is it possible to make a face a stranger,

That for a naive poet,

Has long since become kin?...

Is it possible to be sensible,

And cold-blooded in a wondrous moment,

When with a gentle, youthful movement,

You shine nearby? A heavenly verse,

In my soul replaces the prose of life:

A celestial flower of summers of bliss—

Cheeks that surpass the rose,

In the colors that are the dawn;

A breath sweeter than zephyr;

White teeth—pearls;

Eyes—all the treasures of Ophir;

And skin—the water of Marjory;

Softer than Iranian satin,

The straightness of almond hair,