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The First Commandment
The shutters of the cold red doors open one by one. The sounds of iron wake up like a cold alarm clock, calling for a morning check. The building explodes with a sharp noise, filled with screams and laughter, crushed by the walls of the cells all night.
the walls, almost behind each of the ajar doors, one can see posters of the star and the great love of Orthodox Georgia — the holy Patriarch Ilia II. The gray-haired old man thoughtfully prays for the salvation of all earthly sinners from all possible corners.
Posters are mixed with other icons, drawings of unicorns, cats, strawberries, and so on. If possible, every centimeter is covered with a pink filter, pasted over with beads or glitter, covering the bare truth of the terrible walls.
Women in pink robes, masks of caricature, and smirk-smiles, exchange polite "good mornings" and greetings. People are afraid to expose what everyone already knows.
Someone diligently crosses themselves, bowing low, confusing the entrance to the temple with a videocam. Lens eyes tirelessly follow every corner and turn, lies are relentlessly serviced 24/7.
A queue lined up at the director's office, showing kilometer-long embroideries on religious motifs. The image of the invincible Saint George, made of gold beads, is the most popular.
Cross stitch is a successful and legal prison business. The director bestows each product with a pretentious nod of appreciation and respect.
Groups of pink robes occupy the benches. Behind the increased hum of birds, they discuss more interesting topics rather than embroidery. Under pink hoods, the experienced murderers, prisoners, demons, and freaks are hiding. The size of the circles under the eyes determines the amount of time passed.
Eyes always speak more, do not believe anyone in words and by appearance — this is The First Commandment.
The Second Commandment
The sun of Georgia appears in the sky, raising the degree of the burning of others, and the area heats up like a frying pan.
Under the burning inferno, on a bench, a small, vicious, and red-haired dwarf, named Chucky's wife, is sunbathing. Burning to the most dangerous state, with a red and furious face, Chucky abruptly comes out of her nirvana, smelling the flavor of freshly brought. Today is a new delivery of sweets and tobacco, the only consolation and local currency.
At the eternal point of the epicenter of events, a crowd of merciless women covered the small window of the store. Convulsive tantrums, and cries for justice, can turn into a fight at any moment.
But all of a sudden, all this stops, as small living creatures in wild forests and jungles subside when a real predator, a large animal, appears.
Directly on the course, Fifteen is rapidly advancing, nicknamed for the number of years in prison. A real Russian woman, the only one who knows her rights and even more.
No matter how many minutes, hours, or fights this store saw, everyone dutifully dropped back like tiny insects for not to stand in her way. Fifteen, defiantly and slowly, takes out her endless list of products hidden in transparent leggings. Turning to everyone with her beautiful, big, and fat back, she coquettishly bends down with her list to the window, looking contentedly at the faces of the indignant ones from behind.
Give way to the nervous ones — this is The Second Commandment.
The Third Commandment
From the neighboring building, the so-called Azer ghetto, a crowd of people in sundresses with polka dots and rhinestones comes out. Azerbaijani families arrive in droves from the neighboring village of Ponijala, located 20 minutes from the area.
In the merry Ponijala, the family drug business prospers. Children are hiding drug packages while old people do the boxes. Money is laundered in the market, selling weed and cocaine wrapped in a lettuce leaf. Everyone knew about this convenient scheme for a long time, which is why the whole people of Ponijala are now in prison.
Azerbaijanis always go in noisy crowds, 5-10 people each, and usually in the same group, they stand by one phone.
In the shade under the bower, the prison mafia of the most active gossipmongers is playing backgammon as at the local casino. Massive carcasses quickly move only with their eyes and fingers contemptuously throwing the cube away from themselves, masterfully tracking every movement in their sight.
Somewhere under the feet of the mafia, a chicken named Tashiko quickly runs past. The chicken, having learned its name, rushes to the voice of its owner and friend Muna. Muna takes care of Tashiko, talks to her, and feeds her cookies and marshmallows. Tashiko faithfully follows Muna and faithfully waits for her when she speaks on the phone. No one will ever know what really connects them, love and affection or dependence on sweets.
It is necessary to urgently make a call until all the phones are occupied. When you talk, passers-by slow down, bushes sneeze, walls have eyes, and birds have ears.
The corners whisper conspiracies, gossip, and paranoia.
The Third Commandment
— do not communicate with anyone, do not get involved, do not subscribe to anything.
The Fourth Commandment
The sun slowly hides its sharp sunbeams-peaks behind the horizon. Not so far from the epicenter of events are the so-called circles for a walk.
Fresh air. There are a couple of priceless tracks in my headphones. Mountains are visible behind the barbed wire walls. The sky changes gradients with all colors, today is a special sunset, like an oil painting.
On the tower, a soldier with a gun flirts with his eyes. Granny in a Panama hat "Super Girl" watering flowers with a hose.
I, dreamy, go further and faster to the exit. Round one, two, three...
Granny is still with the hose in the same position.
Suddenly, with a strong gust of wind, Bubblegum brings me back to reality on the one thousand one hundred and one more round. Strenuous walk, a small gun tattoo on her right wrist, never talking to anyone, chewing gum all day long.
Everywhere: at the check-in, in the shower, on a walk, while talking on the phone.
The pace speeds up, but the clock hand goes the same way. The same story in limbo scrolls even faster.
Neither the living nor the dead are stuck between worlds like living ghosts.
And again demons, freaks, betrayal, groundhog day, red door, shop, casino, rounds, telephones,
evening, the red door closes. Hello, paranoia.
The Fourth Commandment
— do not get stuck on anything.
The Fifth Commandment
Buried alive in their cells.
The implored and weeping walls are covered with the names and dates of the temporary death of everyone. Numbers ruthlessly cut your mind. The smell of dampness and suffering vilely sneaks through the cracks.
Memories brazenly break through the shadows of the bars. The sequence of slides from memory changes one by one.
We've been here for so long. Did something really exist before?
We've been here so long, and it seems we were born here. And does this beautiful "after" exist?
What is reality?
Fake people, plastic sky, today it was more than just a painted screensaver.
Talk to God. Do you have the courage to look him in the eyes? Stop hiding. He still sees everything. We are all so funny.
Is this what insanity looks like? Then the whole world went crazy.
The Fifth Commandment
— follow the schedule, go to bed on time.
The Sixth Commandment
Together with the autumn winds, the smell of freedom finally wafted. Rumors about the long-awaited Golden Amnesty, which no one has seen in the country for nine years, are covered with a wave at the speed of light.
Aunt Lyuba, a respected woman, the one whose relatives are in parliament, said that soon SOMETHING WILL HAPPEN SOON according to her secret sources.
The guards, also speaking in secret, give us hope, confirming the words of aunt Lyuba.
Yes, SOMETHING WILL happen, they say, one hundred percent information.
Someone had a prophetic dream, and fortune-tellers on coffee grounds saw how we all will go out, and a white dove flew into the prison.
The level of mysticism and coincidences exceeds all indicators. From all angles, this long-awaited WHAT IF, which will soon WILL BE, is being discussed. Everyone rejoices and waits for the amnesty predictions to turn into reality.
I seem to remember, this was told already last season, and in the past, and the one before, and probably these 9 years in a row. We've all been screwed over again.
A convenient control scheme to give hope to the desperate and hungry. Everyone is on standby, sitting quietly.
Here everyone becomes superstitious, even the most complete materialist. This is the result of our dried brains for a long time being deprived of information and the outside world.
And here comes the same aunt Lyuba, a respected woman. She says yesterday she had a dream about how she flies home on a white dove, just from Thursday to Friday. So SOMETHING WILL HAPPEN SOON! 100% information.
The Sixth Commandment — believe.
The Seventh Commandment
And all here as one, having become disarmed, turn into small children. Where the prison is no longer the prison at all, but a kindergarten, a clinic for the mentally ill, a temple of God, a never-stopping train, a spaceship bound for Mars, anything but a prison. Voluntary departure to the world of illusions is one of the stages that everyone goes through here.
Driven by hopes, hiding from reality to the last, each of us could not even imagine that someday we would end up in prison.
The whole life is running before my eyes by death frames. One of the most hardcore trips ended by solemn silence.
The prisoners, like monuments, bowed in mournful silence for their free lives. It seems that all the madness is gone with the past, somewhere where there is no way back. The whole prison is silent, the building is silent.
Obviously, no state laws and justice will revive and fix the real criminal. And as one good friend of mine says, “Love is the law” and only love can save this world.
The Seventh Commandment — there is no place for pity.
The Eighth Commandment
The Eighth Commandment — everything that was in the trip, remains in the trip.
The Ninth Commandment
The Ninth Commandment — remember who you are.