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A Plastic Bag

I lived in a room located on the 16th floor of one of the "Stalin" towers (Moscow State University). The specifics of such buildings is that they have very narrow, but tall spaces. Sort of a vertical chamber. From twilight to midnight, all tower illumination located on the adjacent wing of the building was on. I had a very tall window in a wooden frame that I would keep slightly open, and a transparent, flowy curtain. That cold, piercing external light was casting a long blue luminous plane on the wall projecting grandiose and exaggerated features of the semi-opened window and fluid shadows from the curtain waved by the air flow. At 12 AM, the light would go off, and if I happened to be in the bed before that, I was laying and staring at the window and at the wall with the dynamic light composition on it. In such moments I always recall how mosses are attracted to light, and so was I, completely mesmerized by a play of lights and shadows.

One night I was laying like that. The atmosphere outside was uneasy. It was a cold season with vicious winds pushing heavy and viscous clouds across the sky. The window frame was trembling from such agitation. Watching this interplay of light and wind, I suddenly saw a plastic bag that arrived and started floating right in front of my window. It was carried from the dumpster located nearby and elevated up to the top of the tower. Unbound, just a containment for anything that is put into it, it was now filled with air and with no inertia was floating with a constantly changing trajectory. It was punched by the air streams and was only lightly deformed every time retaining its integrity and overall shape. Submitted by all conditions of the surrounding environment, it was the only object to ascend from the dumpster.

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