The Choices of the Followers By Isabella Velkova ‘Listen’, the stargazer said, ‘Do you know that there

is only one life?’ Yes, I knew that, already. I had travelled a lot, far and wide, and I had seen the distant lands, that were the eternal dream of peasants and warriors. What I also knew was, that everybody had their illusions, their vague beliefs about what and where, and who and whom. No one cared and no one dared to see the truth. The stargazer needed to tell the true story about life and death to someone, he was not happy with his followers, he needed an apprentice and, he wanted me. I had some different vision, an unrecognizable plan that I cherished deep inside; I dared not talk to him and tell it all, he would be angry, he would make his wicked magic and he would throw me on the ground and, then, I would become his successor… He was old, he knew nothing of the modern times; he kept on telling me stories that were meaningful only to him and his few contemporaries; I could apprehend nothing, it was unbelievable, how he could still dream of conquering the world, if he knew nothing about the wicked youngsters` games? At first, they started by being mischievous in the beginning; then, they refused to buy masstige; then, they did not believe in bulk-buying, who the hell, exactly wants discounts? Yes, they want discounts, if they want a doughnut or something, a brand of course. Besides, the youngsters have never been just floorwalkers, they shop and they shop expensively and extensively, they like to shop; they shop even souls and then they refuse to sell, they just throw them away. They keep their tickets, not like the old women, who show them off to imply about their earnings. The youngster astrologists would hardly do this, they had just learned since early childhood not to take things by their face value. Face values and market values are a couple of all these abstractions that are ruling our lives today. Accounts of financial institutions, even in this magic world were delinquent, just like youngsters were delinquent, too, at least some of them. They also confuse the meanings of ‘flan’, thinking that it is simply a type of pastry. No one cares in this magic world of ours about the traditions of the stargazers and about the income distribution of the folllowers; discounts and meanings are for the old warriors and for the young peasants. The youngster astrologists believe only in the power of super food. They eat tangerines and grapefruits, and tangelos, and lollo rosso, and pomegranate with mangold, too. They never cook; everything is ready-made on the shelves of the country markets, with the sellers shouting for them to try. Life is about just running around and, fighting around, and everybody selling something - themselves, their parents and, sometimes, their souls; however, the soul is not a marketable security in these magic days. Beware!

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