Karen Karslyan's Birth

One bright yellow summer morning a bunch of people were dragging a human-size syringe from one room to another. The syringe was loaded. The windows were looking in and out. The Brownian movement of the doctors from one chamber to another ceased in the chamber number X. The lights turned on, and the room turned dark in the negative cine film, on which the scene had been captured. There was a moment of silence. The human-size syringe got lifted up and thrust into the decrepit and dilapidated vein of the universe, into which the contents was slowly being injected. A supernatural shrill burst out of the chamber holes: into the vein of the planet Earth screaming like Munch’s old woman, howling like Ginsberg’s poem, maddening like the sirens of Homer, police, ambulance or fire department and smiling like Gagarin I was injected as heroine. The Earth was shivering from the need of the dose – it was time! And while the world was enjoying its existence, I was weeping, crying my eyes off.