Our friend, Bianca, agreed to share with us her story. She created it for the physics class this year. Her Professor asked the class to make an essay expressing their vision about Ohm’s Law in the electric circuit using their creativity. Hers was considered an original approach on this theme and the Professor decided to post her story on the hallway so that everyone could see it. We decided to ask her permission to use the story for this site because her vision is a depressing one. We consider it well written, charged with emotion.
Voyage in a closed circuit
On the sad autumn days, when the rain hits so painfully my bedroom window I often think about the incapacity of the human beings to understand the existence of another life, beyond the things that we can see.
Studying Ohm’s Law during the physics classes I managed to transport myself into a closed circuit made with the purpose of demonstrating the respective law. But, exiting the positive terminal of the generator, I realized that those electrical charges are nothing less than the empty souls of those humans who couldn’t manage to find eternal peace. Continuing my journey along the circuit I reached the ampere meter. I noticed with terror that this one, in fact, measures the tumult and the anxiety of those in pain who carry their souls into a closed circuit, just like into a crematory of suffering. The resistance and the voltage measured on that resistor are, in fact, the life in a human body and the life in an electric circuit. The ratio between the second one with the first one has no result other than the pain measured by the ampere meter.
I realized how much pain and tragedy of those who are no longer with us can hide a simple closed circuit. I understood once again just how insignificant are the human beings and the complexity of the world above our mortal capacity of understanding. I played with the ampere meter and the volt meter by changing the terminals without knowing how striking it is for the poor souls in mourning.
***
Away from her window
It took her a long time to finally overcome her fears and make an opening into her ivory tower. The veil that had covered her little world was removed and she could read in his eyes a whole world of mysteries, without being afraid of losing herself in their blue gaze. But although she could see his lips moving, not a word reached her and when she stretched her hand to touch his, all she could feel was the frosty coldness of the glass. There was a window between them… tears…pain… suffering …
Cristina
***
~ This world has such a way of putting things ~
This world has such a way of putting things, doesn’t it?
This nature in particular…
She does not care about anything,
except herself that is,
As any gorgeously vain creature would in fact…
We…humans… are the least important part of it all
We can do nothing to prevent our nothingness,
except candidly admire,
as we always have…
A thing of beauty they say,
Well, it all is, a thing of beauty,
beauty, and something more probably
as beauty is too little word,
and smallish at that, as all things human are,
and so unfulfilling…
It’s all just rocks, and mountains, and shores,
and seagulls, and sandy beaches of liquid gold,
all slowly fading in the distance,
melting in the horizon like a gigantic ice-cream
beneath that egocentric Sun
(he doesn’t deserve the capital, he always wants to have it all,
like any selfishly powerful man would- I hate him)
and there’s also air, a lot of air filling up all the spaces-
like in a Swiss cheese,
fresh air, pulling through our tired lungs,
it is air ran through by this stream
this enormous stream ,(more like the Amazon really), of gorgeousness,
of the feeling of creation, and of being a part of it all,
of all this intimidating “All”,
Perfection and beauty are to be found everywhere,
E-V-E-R-Y-W-H-E-R-E,
I know it’s such a huge cliché,
That’s why I’m stressing it out,
I take pleasure in feeling silly, in all my humanity,
But, alas!, this IS the simple truth nevertheless,
so simple and often heard,
that it’s starting to sound like some dated, ridiculous 80s track
(as all things 80s are)
everyone likes it, no one wants to hear it again…
And again, it’s all rocks, and mountains,
ooh…and shores, and boring seagulls flying over lonely beaches in Normandy,
and castles of sand slowly fading away in the rosy dusk light
and melancholy days languidly spent in a chaise longue
and a rather too long number of “ands” really
too much, too much of this perfection,
that it’s almost annoying,
God, what right have you to bug me with all this?!,
and all stuffed up in one ball of dust!
Oh, but it feels so stupid for saying all this now…
epecially with all the Shelleys, and Byrons, and Yeats, and Dickinsons before me…
Utterly ridiculous, that’s it!
But what can you do?
Except yes… watching the ocean from that chaise longue
tucked in a thin blanket,
trying to imagine you were some kind of Monet
wishing…watching…waiting…happy…
***
Shadows make lonely company
I still remember the echo of my footsteps as I was walking on the cold corridor of the hospital, watching the white door that was keeping a soul between those gloomy walls. A deep breath. With trembling hands, I opened it.
There he was, the divine figure of my childhood, trapped in that hollow bed. A tear blossomed in my eyes. His face was clouded and I could sense a shadow of agony in his breath. Slowly, I took his hand into mine and started talking. The feeling of life’s last remnants trembling under the thin veil of his dry wrinkles skin made me shiver. As the sun was vanishing, a profound silence blanketed my love whispers. The last pale rays of the sun lightened the room and a light of recognition crept along his face.
His eyes opened. Without speaking, they began to confess the secrets of the heart, although they seemed fixed somewhere in the distance. An hour passed …. We lived those moments all over again: my birth, my childhood with its laughter, its sun and smiles, the first day of school, my teenage years, the graduation, my grandmother’s death, the last summer together. He remained the same. Nothing could fade that soft tenderness of his face…Then, everything got lost in the misty world of oblivion. The shadows of the night covered us.
With a sigh, he closed his eyes, his mind and our conversation. Tears were streaming down my face.
Cristina
***
Our cruel worlds
Alone into the darkness of the most cruel fears I loiter
Having no one to stand by my side
My fatal destiny established by merciless gods shall remain
I know that anyone told they loved me lied.
The peaks of despair I reached with tons of tears hanging my soul
Telling me I won’t ever succeed to forget you.
It hurts me so, but I love pain
I know I cry in vain.
I cry for help, but nobody shows his face
Everyone seeks for ignorance.
A rough world would have been better
For me, for you, for our cruel gods
The pain wouldn’t even matter
For anyone in our cruel worlds.