The Sojourn I.

Do You Hear The People Sing?

Les Misérables

Presently, I found myself in the station. People were hustling as one must anticipate. The whole station was overwhelmed with the gullibly neat announcement of a lady of no-existence. A long que of women in front of the toilet irritated me. It did not go well with a whole system. Women and their urge to urinate – very naturally weird thing and very artificial ordered background did not go well together. One won’t be never allowed for soul searching in a city like this. It was very systematic. One always has to play along with the bureaucratic this and that just for a simple trip. How can a person find the meaning of life while trying to understand how these systems work? One can’t just simply afford.

I find no use in the body. It was no the death I wanted. I wanted the liberty from this body - this body ... I think I hated it.

"The body is the limit". Yes, I smiled in solace. Yes it was always the body - what limits you - all those physical laws? Fuck that. Your body percieves them, it betrays you, it gaslights you to believe you are the body. It never was, you are rather trapped - like water in a bottle. The co-dependence, maybe. Then, what is you? What role does our soul play?

In Lumara, the word life is the same as to live, which I find very beautiful and natural. Life is to live, this pun, this rhetoric, I worship this word as a mighty God. How do we start a fire without a light - when we need heat not light : how do we start a fire with heat - when we need light not heat? How do we suffer? Lumara is the most beautiful language as a language sublimely can. Actually, language and beautiful does not along with each other. Language is the prison of sentimentality, language is the epitome of lies over lies, language is useless because it had been used as one should. Can we? Can we? I can't. Still, Lumara is the most beautiful language - "Lumara illustrio illingua - Lumara, the beautiful language".

My unhinged, disordered thoughts were flowing over me. I was on the train already, to the city T273. It would be three hours long trip. I was leaving Q116, which is the capital of the strange nation I was put to when my nation Lumara was exterminated by a strange war - the strange war because it was the most brutal war in the human history - the strange war because humans were watching us being slaughtered in reality television, maybe with coftu and cellet. When was the last drop of Lumaran's blood fell to Lumara's land ?Maybe it was ten years ago - I was 12. When I was in Lumara, I was a Lumaran but not a human, only when I was carried to The Great HFT01, the colonial, imperial disguised in Utopian, Egalitarian society, I was doomed to promote into being a human- the ultimate impudence. I always laughed at their hypocrisy and preponderance, so that I can reminisce the glory, wild, barbaric last days of my land and myself.
And the glory days...I laughed, no glory days are to be remembered, to remember to is to suffer because to live is to suffer and to remember, you have to live "Ini ithini - to live is to suffer".
On the seat number 901, I sat down. It was meant to be a three hour trip, it will be three hours because it is the Great HFT01, everything happens as it supposes to. The coftu was served. From inside, you are allowed to watch outside - that's very strange and natural - they were trying to reenact the intrinsic perverted nature of humans in literally everything. Our souls are always naked, like that train.
The train was leaving in 30 seconds. Just when I thought there would be no one in the seat besides me, one girl hopped in. The girl, bobbed blue hair with big gullible eyes, slightly shorter than me and fairer than most people in this city. She seemed native, native to the Great HFT01. "Eyes don't lie". The rhetoric which is only true when you take it literally. The Great HFT01 natives, before it had become the Great HFT01, Curoraville, the Curoravilleans, the charming people of the future utopian hell, the Great HFT01 - the Curoravilleans were colonized and subjugated by the very freedom they wished for. She was self-immersed in trying to get her in place, her bobbed hair was so charming and I found her attractive - she was an attractive girl. Finally, she glanced at me, her bluish big eyes met mine of downturn brown eyes - the very Lumarian eyes of mine. She smiled. I smiled.
"Lumara hitho"
She whispered "A Lumaran" I turned my head. here in the Great HFT01, being other than human was forbidden - there was nothing humane in this except the part of "being forbidden". What's after being forbidden? I have never seen a human ever questioned "What's after being forbidden?, that's the very humane thing to do anyway.
"Lumara hitho" the girl whispered again staring into my eyes. Her aqua blues eyes were lustrous with being awed. The way she pronounced Lumaran were rather quirky, the tonation was childish. I turned away from her glaring eyes and blankly stared into the outside. It seemed my suffering were like a long forgotten nightmare now, as if I got sober from the very good novel or movie, so astringent and real that I was to detached from the reality itself. The whisper of the girl "Lumara hitho" was echoing, I did not know whether she was repeatedly murmuring or I got trapped in that specific moment, the train was to leave in 30 seconds and now it was 15 mins into the trip. How long had I been staring outside and how come I did not know the figures ?outsides were moving behind by the train? Yet, I still hear the blue hair girl kept whispering "Lumara hitho - a Lumaran".
Finally, I turned into her. She was staring at me, as if the last 15 minutes did not exist.
"How come do you know that I am a Lumaran" I asked in standardized language.
The girl's eyes got wider and gleaming with excitement, but it was also like that of hysteric eyes. It was always difficult to encapsulate emotions anyway - it could be both too.
"So you are a Lumaran?"
"I thought you already knew"
"I just got to know that"
"How comes?"
"A Lumaran seldom lies"
I chuckled. She might have been studying Lumara out of enthusiasm.
"Yes but it does not explain why you got to know that I am a Lumaran"
"I know a Lumaran, he looks like you"
"That's racist" I laughed in absurdity of my own comment - since they never know what a racism meant. There was no racism here for so long since there was not concept of race taught here in the great nation. All are Humans. As expected she did not understand what a racism meant. However, the girl was very genuine and I knew that. A person who knew a Lumaran won't find it difficult to recognize another Lumaran - We lumaran are very similar - brown skin, slim, downturn brown eyes, blunt eyebrows, androgynous and have soft voices. We behave very similar to each other - in a nation like this where Humans are very heterogenous in forms and colors, it was easy to find the pattern of a strong figures of Lumaran.