The world is an onion

A huge onion, but still an onion.

Ddrawing by me

The world is falling apart. A last layer of onion is to be peeled off before no onion remains. An onion without its layers is just a blank space of nothing. But before it disappears, tears have to fall, even if you think there are no tears left to cry.

And I know there will be another onion once we finish this one — I’m just too scared to see the old onion go and the new onion take shape. Will it be familiarly round or will we invent a cubic, triangle, parallelepiped onion? What if the next onion is — to cite Philomena Cunk — the Soviet Onion again? No, we had done that already. No Soviet Onions anymore. It’s going to be a different onion. The artificial onion that tastes like a real one and makes you cry as hard. If you ingest the piece of it, you will get bloated, too.

We will not create anything new — bigger, maybe.

A huge onion, but still an onion.

I have a strange, Cassandrian sensation that everything that’s happening now is to destroy something big that we built before. The walls no longer hold and forces that want to break the walls are of an undiplomatic nature. Our walls are too cheap and simple to withstand this fire. And the walls were that cheap because we didn’t want and couldn’t do better. But we have lots of houses that will burn…