VCR Venus
“Currents are widely discussed in the scientific community” .The room is sombre, a television lightly illuminating the space; white powdered lines on the table reflect the light produced by the screen, creating a changing pattern of blue hues. “Plastic bags have become unfortunate inhabitants of the sea, and occasionally drifting ashore -”. On the screen a simple beach appears, with moving waves. The rhythm mesmerizes me, nearly stopping me from noticing the strange thing which has emerged from the waves, seemingly growing with every ripple, as if each wave brought a new particle to it. “A 2015 study has showed that-”. The unidentified object slowly turns into a finger, I blink. Impossible. It continues to grow until turning into what appears to be a hand. “The main problem with plastic in the ocean is that it’s degrading the ecosystem in various ways”. The hand crawls back into the sea, then comes back with a lower arm attached to it. The waves continue to crash against the land, oblivious to their preposterous creation. With every sway a new limb emerges, joining the body: upper arm- wave- torso- wave- waist- wave leg- wave- foot – wave – neck – wave– head – wave… The sunlight crystallises, creating threads of ginger gold that amass together in undulated curls. Suddenly she stands, opening her eyes. “There is no beach in England where particles of plastic aren’t found“. She smiles, drowning the commentator’s voice. Her hair flows in the breeze and her ethereal presence blows me away, further narcotizing me. Who is she? “Venus” a distant voice whispers back, undeniably mine. I turn to see my silhouette beside me, smirking with wide eyes. “What are you waiting for?” gesturing to the TV, invitingly. I don’t understand. “Yes you do.” It’s not real, it’s not possible. “Isn’t it?” looking eagerly at the table eagerly “Go meet her”. My reflection dissolves in a sniff, making the room blur; the box absorbs me, vacuuming me to my destiny.
She is captivating. Venus grabs my hand, welcoming me - she does not talk. The podcast continues, muffled by the clouds and the sea. “To understand this phenomenon, we need to understand the tide-“. She invites me to sit, the sand sinking molding around us. She embraces me, protecting me from the cold. We watch as the waves roll back and forth, penetrating into unknown land, caressing the sand, then retreating back into their familiar openness, leaving foam behind as trace. I forget about time and I enjoy the ephemeral pleasure of eternity. She whimpers as Cupid emerges, holding a small red bow. He shoots, the clock strikes twelve; the stars die and it all goes black.
I open my eyes to a dark familiar room, my head rolled back. The impossibility of the experience overwhelms me. It’s foolish, but I must check… I restart the podcast, turn down the volume and watch the image repeat itself; I weep, mourning for the goddess and our son, realising I’m stuck in an existence without them. The trip has ended.