DEFUNCTUS – HECON IS TIRED OF LIFE'S HARDNESS

The loose translation of the Latin word Defunctus as defined by Schopenhauer is rendered as "the one who has paid off with the toil of life." But what man can claim such a thing? How many are happy to admit that they accomplished their goals or realized their dreams? The answer is simple. Only those who have not set such. So the hero, knowing full well that life is directly and completely affected by the preferences one has or does not have, experiences every day as if it were the last. In his actions, the concept of responsibility loses its meaning as each of his decisions does not contain the slightest shred of logic. He becomes an aggressor and a victim in complete ignorance of any feeling. Hermaeus of his passions unfolds his sinful life. Hunted by a powerful underworld agent and wanted by the police, he decides to kill himself. But what led him there? Alone in a dark room he reminisces about the past. The cause of his suffering, a car accident, the refusal of his occasional mistress to help him and the murder of a ten-year-old girl. But the reason is deeper. Maybe the intense childhood desire to get that damned box of chocolates, maybe the awe at the sight of the first open female bust. Without being able to come to an end, he shifts the search to adolescence and to dead-end loves. Then by selling his body, admittedly not so expensive in retrospect, he secured easy money and satisfied his unquenchable lust for unadulterated pleasures. In the stinking underground clubs and the halls of the luxurious casinos. In the body of the raped Vera. In chronic alcohol use and its hallucinations. In his beliefs and struggle on some dark pavement with God. However, the visit to the hiding places of memory is not as catalytic as the developments of the present. The intention of suicide emerges in a comedy of existence. Terrible pursuers take the place of cops and the most hated enemy is revealed in the reflection of the mirror. Defunctus is a vulgar expression of life. An honest testimony of the author's soul that does not aim to shock but only to tell his story. To witness the mythical smell of this world through his childhood, adolescent and then early male eyes. To satirize choices and the right to choices. As if this possibility is in our hands! To demystify himself and by diving into the oceans of thoughts to bring to the surface the sadness, the rage and the sadness of his heart. In this autobiographical story, personal reality is stripped of its aesthetic dimensions. The moral persona wears her red cloak, the hero embraces the whims of the will and condemns any worldly must. Nothingness and temporary pleasures lead to extremes. The taste of hell on earth lingers on his lips even as the end approaches. The vain anticipation of hope becomes hell. Deprivation of love does not bother. The humiliation of loneliness is like the last cradle of existence.