"Verrà la morte e avrà i tuoi occhi" (Italian: "Death will come and she will have your eyes")
Alina Vitukhnovskaya, writer
It seems that a beautiful woman cannot subject herself to a terrible death. This is illogical with regard to aesthetics and vitality as such, but not ethics, which is absent here, as well as Kant's "starry sky overhead". Unless, of course, we are talking about the Kremlin stars. Always struck by the obscene vulgarity of this phrase. Morality and morality are only forms of escape from fear, from their true nature, repressive suppressive mechanisms for the primitive wild majority.
Russia slipped into the Middle Ages. All of her is now an endless thanatos. From the faces of fellow citizens, it is as if modernity is being emasculated, erased. These are already different faces. The faces of the saints. And the faces of people gazing into death.
Of course, a criminal case for driving to suicide should be initiated. The case against the Russian Federation represented by specific executors.
But the true values of the Russians turned out to be somewhat different than even the most cynical skeptics expected. The funeral of the gopnik Tesak attracted much more people than the tragedy of Slavina. In Nizhny Novgorod, they removed all the flowers brought to the place of Irina's death. Tesak's funeral cost around $ 30,000. He was buried at the Kuntsevo cemetery in Moscow. Domestic mass media write about this with serious pathos. It is also unclear why Tesak is called a nationalist and not a criminal, that is, what he was by nature.
We are not witnessing the suicides of past centuries, in which there was even some kind of romanticism, this is not suicide from love suffering, this is not adolescent suicide, terrible, but still, typically predictable. This is already national despair.
Life in wartime, and this is exactly what life is like in the current RF-II, becomes mentally and physically unbearable. One of the symptoms is consent to "cutting". I could not help but use this marginal term because of its animal-pictorial accuracy. A statement of total social insecurity and, of course, and again - a complete existential fiasco. If not an individual, then the project "Russia" itself and directly any subject, at least linguistically (Russian language) imprisoned for this project.
Irina Slavina reminds me of the genius Japanese writer Yukio Mishima, who committed hara-kiri. For having challenged virtually the entire post-war system of world order, he found himself face to face with a reality in which he no longer had a place.
Despite the mutually exclusive worldviews of Slavina and Mishima, both of these gestures are gestures of desperate patriotism, because Irina wrote: " ...will this at least bring our state closer to a brighter future, or will my sacrifice be meaningless?" That is, to the end, even dying, she hoped for something. This is a real Russian heroine, but just as there are no prophets in their own country, so heroes are not needed in it.
But it is especially regrettable to realize that in Russia such sacrifice is still perceived as an integral part of the life of those who dared to cast their voice in the abyss of silent despair, this is seen by the persecuted society as an inevitable obligation of those few who are usually called disaffected, dissenting, as before. they were also called holy fools, and now they are mentally insolvent, abnormal.
However, not everyone disowned Irina. In Nizhny Novgorod, however, there were several dozen people who paid tribute to the memory and respect of the deceased. This inspires a certain cautious, restrained optimism.
This political autumn in Rossiyushka opened the road to hell. It has always been revealed to those who understand a lot about the metaphysics of certain areas. But never before has this road been made so communally accessible, so open to everyone.
The most important thing is that there is nothing behind this whole black funnel, behind this whole Russian abyss, absolute zero, emptiness. Which are only reflected on the surface by a deceptive murmur of pseudo-meanings, generating unnecessary movements, a kind of ghostly vanity, mistaken for life.