In Kiev automobiles rule the roads – pedestrians must, most of the time, use an underpass. But they’ve made the holes under the roads comfortable: there are bakeries and sweet shops in there, mobile phone shops, beer stalls and cafes, tattoo studios, and dark corners at which tramps sit around cleaning their toenails with paper clips. In contrast to zebra-crossings which allow pedestrians a passage from one side to the other, I always experience such under-grade crossings as places in which the crossing can also be linked to a transformation: I disappear quite sober into a hole on one side and emerge drunk out of another on the other side – or with a new hair-cut, with a tattooed anchor on the forearm, or another mobile phone, a flowery shirt, or simply with a desire to belch, brought on by a hastily gulped-down cola.
If one wished to formulate it bombastically one could call the descent into this nether world (Hades), death – and the emergence from it, birth. One could imagine that one has been born inside or entered the life of any other passer-by. A few appear to be slightly confused when they emerge – as though they don’t really know where or who they are. No wonder the birthplace determines our life in quite a fundamental fashion. But one doesn’t need to go so far. Who we are also depends on where we stand at that moment. And as such it makes a difference if we choose to leave the underworld via Exit East or Exit West – if one were to reflect at length on this issue, it could drive one crazy. Luckily, in most cases, we don’t question what our decisions signify for u
First Publication: 15-3-2015
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