One's presence in the zone of theoretical availability played a role of the mechanism for my subconsciousness which allowed to hold my internal blackhole in - something like a transistor trigger with a snowflake lying on its shutter. The snowflake was blown off, the shutter opened and the Avalanche came down. I saw the huge mass of gleaming snow several years ago; it has been turning more and more real since then.

...There is a lonely trelissed gate down the slope, acute-tone sharp cirrus onhigh and frost, which resonates with ultraviolet substance vibrating in the air, reflecting in the cliffs. A boy is running across the cradle of white, launching a glider, squinting in the sun that peers through the wing frame. A young man looks at him staggering with the feeling of danger from snow cornices trembling above; an old man looks at them half-dead from the fear for both. A windrush flew to move an invisible stratum, a vast snow mass skimmed along the slope and swept all of them into the abyss, three men, and that gate, and their glider.

2001 ноябрь 1