Where to begin?
Hmm. Right. Right now only one thought is spinning in my head. Only one, probably, I should… tell about myself.
But as soon as the thought appears, silence immediately follows it.
Silence not because I don't know what I want. No. Silence because I don't know who I am.
Although… perhaps, both the first and the second.
Life was never constant.
People are inconstant.
The whole world is inconstant.
And gods? What about those who call themselves gods?
The immortals.
A word that sounds like a promise. No, like an oath, no… like a foolish childish "never-never-never".
That which will never disappear. Even if everything disappears.
And yet my answer is "No".
Wait. Are you saying that even those who are above life and death, whose name once made one tremble at its mere utterance, are also inconstant?
I would say "Yes. No one was ever constant". Not them. Not me. Not you.
Welcome, again. To my abode of forgotten desires, I was thinking where to begin. And, as if on purpose, I began exactly with this.
The introduction of my personality.
In such cases, it seems customary to first state one's name. Well, my name is Enua.
Yes, strange, I know.
In katakana it doesn't mean anything. Just "エヌア".
E.
Nu.
A.
But with kanji it changes.
炎 — flame.
永 — eternity.
亜 — a slight aftertaste of foreignness.
Funny. Usually I don't think about my name. After all, gods don't need it.
A name is not a decoration or a toy. A name is a hook in the memory, to catch on. So as not to be forgotten even after the last breath.
A higher being does not need hooks. It is engraved in the heart from birth.
Then… why do I have a name? Shouldn't I be known without it? Remembered without it?
Do they remember? Is there anyone left who remembers?
Welcome to a world where humanity, according to legends, has already disappeared.
The name was given to me by my mother.
The one who created me. The one who abandoned me in the same hour.
Fair? I don't know. Perhaps, or perhaps not.
In the end, it's not for me to decide what is fair. A world where everyone decides for themselves. A world where everyone has their own truth.
This is a story about how a soul acquired a shell.
A shell without a place. Without time. Without matter.
The shell wandered. Looked around.
To the right. To the left. Straight ahead. Back.
Until… it stopped, sat down, out of despair. Out of what it saw.
Because if you don't see a path, you don't see life. And if you don't see life, you don't find meaning.
No one knows how long it sat in this empty, white nothingness.
No one. Except it.
Until at some point it decided, let me not be alone.
Let it be.
Because loneliness is the enemy. And in the long run, no one has defeated it.
It waved its hand. Said "Be" and it appeared.
Life. But not life, matter. The same empty shell.
Why?
The question was asked so often that one day the question… answered.
"If you want to create something like yourself, create yourself."
Create myself? It looked at itself, but… did it look?
Ran its hands over its face and realized, it has no eyes. To see the beautiful, one must look through the beautiful.
It created eyes. And for the first time saw itself.
Then it created a form, living, real. Something that can be called "I".
Thus being appeared.
Not a thing.
Not a subject.
Being.
Only by understanding oneself can one understand everything else. One cannot paint a landscape without knowing it.
When the shell, no, already "I" understood this, then said "Be".
And the world appeared. Space appeared. Time appeared.
But… that was not enough.
A landscape is empty as long as there is no life in it.
Loneliness lasts until someone similar to you appears nearby.
Creating life turned out to be more difficult. It is not something that can be done with a word. It is something that requires mind, soul.
A day passed.
A second passed.
The third was approaching.
And, finally, in the persistence of his desire, he achieved it.
On the third day, life appeared.