The Sirmione Elephant
Sometimes the red elephant had dreams — rare, heavy, like the slow movement of tectonic plates. In these dreams, he tried to comprehend his own nature and that immutable burden entrusted to him amidst absolute emptiness. In some visions, it seemed to him that he was an ancient Sisyphus, but turned inside out, subordinated to a different, much more sophisticated law. The Greek Sisyphus is doomed to eternal, furious movement, to an endless struggle with gravity and the steepness of the slope. The elephant understood that his fate was exactly the opposite, yet no less crushing. He was not a prisoner of a rolling stone, nor a slave to dynamics. His curse, his absolute duty, was total, frozen immobility. The elephant realized he was doomed to remain a static statue, a point of absolute rest. In this dream, the white cube existed only as long as the red shoulder touched it. Had the elephant taken even a single step aside, shifted from foot to foot, or yielded to a moment of weakness, the f...