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At first there was an eclipse. And it was a magnificent spontaneous event. It recalled that under our feet we have an earth with a title letter. That summer and autumn, sunset and dawn, solstice and solstice are not only everyday events, but also cosmic ones. That we are witnesses and participants in space action. That the savages were right in the main thing: the border between man and space is fragile and ghostly.
Then an earthquake occurred in Asia Minor. The account of the victims goes on tens of thousands. A quarter of a million - without shelter. Eight hundred thousand are afraid to sleep under the roof. Yesterday we looked into the sky, lifting our heads, through dark glasses. Now it's time for mourning. When the event was mysterious and majestic, you can afford planetary metaphors in a youth. When an event is a disaster, trouble, grief, even a poetic requiem seems false. Statistics - the number of buried, saved, damage in millions of dollars - gives at least some rational meaning to what is happening. But statistics do not protect from a sense of insecurity and helplessness. Maybe it’s best to rescuers and their dogs now - they act, but do not observe. The contemplators can only bow their heads in memory of the land devoted by the earth and devoted to the earth. Sympathy, pity, sorrow can be not only words.
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