The Tiger caught Marta in the middle of an exciting routine. She was taking feathers out of her shoulder; as we remember, Marta had a wing instead of her left arm. She sat with her legs crossed on the grass and slowly, methodically pulled out one feather after another. First, the ones that stuck into her heart with their sharp needles. She put the ones she’d already taken out in a small chest, wiping the blood from the sharp tip of the feather beforehand. She dabbed them with the hem of her dress, which left reddish-brown smudges on the silk. 

Her face was absolutely calm. She bit her lower lip a little, but not out of pain, more out of concentration on the process, or even curiosity. 

The Tiger found Marta in an abandoned garden. The garden was overgrown, densely planted with trees, flowers, and lushly sprawling shrubs. Wild tropical flowers grew straight out of the tall, dense grass. There were no ridges or clearings. There were no trails; only the grass was flattened in places as if someone was lying down, but someone not very heavy. It smelled like lemon and milk chocolate. The scent was how Tiger found Marta.

The Blue Tiger sat across from Marta. He took a joint out of the pocket of his beige trench coat and lit it, lazily looking around. 

–Why are you like that?–The Tiger turned to Marta sniffing at the rosebush.

–Like what?

–Bloody.

–Is there any other way?–she answered without taking her eyes off of her work, grimacing a little as she pulled another needle out of her body.

–I don’t know,–he answered confusedly, letting out a ring of smoke.

–You think about it. I would be glad to have a confident answer to this question.

–Then you have to try. In different ways. It is possible to find the only right answer.

–I doubt that very much. The further I go, the more I doubt it,–she put another feather in the trunk.

–You’re always in doubt.

–Things are different now. Everything else is less and less doubtful now. You see, if you cancel the existence of one correct answer, then there is no point in doubting anything. How can one continue to question something that cannot be solved in one way?!

–Are you progressing?

–I’m afraid I’m growing up.

–Symptoms?

–Sound. You can hear the bubble bursting. It gets easier to see. And I’m too lazy to figure out or understand what has become easier to see. And it gives me more freedom.

–Freedom?– The Tiger was interested.

–Self-Freedom. Self-empowerment. You can afford more, say more, do more, think more. They don’t scold me anymore. And if they do, I’m too lazy to understand why and for what reason they condemn.

–I notice that you keep repeating “lazy.” A key component?

–Sometimes. It’s a good tool. But the key is that the components now move differently, too, freely. It is possible to rearrange them. The mobility of thought increased with the mobility of dissected perception. The bubble burst, as I say.

The Tiger thought for a moment. 

–And your wishes?–He asked with genuine curiosity–What are they now?

–Almost the same. Only I honestly admit them to myself now, freely. I’m telling you, you can see better

–And when they come true?

–It varies. Sometimes it’s tastier and more sensual. And sometimes it’s a disappointment. 

But even disappointment is a joy. Tried it, figured it out, and threw it away

–Quick

–Just lazy

Marta finished with the shoulder and admired the work she’d done. She pondered whether to continue or take a break. The thin crumpled material of her dress was changing color more and more. 

Tiger held out a joint to her. She took it. 

He took his pince-nez out of his pocket and began to peer into the trunk. In his vast paws, it seemed pretty small. 

–Are you planning to finish today?–He asked, not taking his eyes off the ancient lock.

Up to this point, Tiger had been calm and even lethargic. But at this question, his feline striped tail flicked up nervously. The chain’s links, pinned at one end to his tail and the other to Marta’s wing, flew through the air with a thin metallic sound and fell softly into the grass. Marta’s wing twitched, but it seemed as if she didn’t notice. Her face showed no emotion. She gently took the trunk from Tiger. 

–I haven’t decided yet. I kind of cherish it, the wing. I’m unique with it. And beautiful, I think. But these,–she nodded at the feathers in the trunk–are a drag. It’s easier without them.

–And the chain? 

Tiger didn’t look at Marta. He stared at his claws, releasing them from the soft paw in which he held the joint again, then hiding them. His tail beat out a steady rhythm. Marta wondered.

–The chain is beautiful, too, of course. But I think it belongs there,–she pointed her chin at the box.

The Tiger didn’t answer. With his other paw, he pressed the chain against the grass. The sound was thinner now, but the rhythm remained the same. 

–You see,–Marta said cautiously, hesitantly reaching out her hand to pet Tiger, then not quite bringing the fingers to his ears, instead lazily putting them down–You see, the clinic was helpful after all.

–Are you saying they cured you?

–No, you were right; it’s a pure scam. They promised to teach me how to fly with one wing. As you can see, I still can’t fly.

–What then?

–I can’t fly. But I’m not escaping, either.

–That’s a result, of course,–he remarked,–What’s the benefit? 

The Tiger got closer to Marta, sprawled out on her back, and tucked his ear under her arm. She scratched his striped head mechanically. 

–They explained that it is possible without pain.

–And now you can do that? Without pain?

–I have now forgotten what it was for.

–I’ll remind you. Sure. For the feeling of feelings.

–Oh, yes ,–Marta muttered confusedly.

–Or don’t you need it anymore?

–I told you, I’m kind of lazy now now.

–Again, “lazy.” This is an essential part of your new theory.

–I think laziness is an important part of growing up. Such true laziness. Which it is brave and quiet to admit. For which you are no longer ashamed. When you stop looking for that one and only correct answer, you get lazy.  Too lazy to look, to invent, to deceive, to justify, to force yourself. That is where “have to” and “must to” go. Somewhere behind the laziness comes the “don’t care.” It’s like you’ve given up. Give up looking for the important, and many things become immediately unimportant. Because there is no one correct answer to the question “what is important?” And that’s not pessimism. It’s peace, calmness.

–And you accuse the clinic of being a scam. But look how much the treatment did for you.

–That’s because I resisted treatment.

–So there’s nothing that’s important? That’s too trivial for you, Marta.

–Of course, there is,–Marta shrieked animatedly–It’s just that what is important is no longer a constant component but a changeable, momentary one. Now you want to pick and bite a pear, so it is important, very important. If you want to spit it out because it’s not tasty or you’ve just changed your mind, it’s very important to spit it out immediately. The importance has changed sides. It is no longer on the outside but the inside. And because of that, it requires no explanation or argumentation. It is important in a subjective way. And absolutely not absolute. This is freedom.

–Are you free, Marta?

He covered her legs with his paw. For the first time in their dialogue, Marta looked at the Blue Tiger. She knew it wasn’t a question. She repeated several times that there was no longer one correct answer. And he always listened to her carefully. 

She crawled very close to him. Her nose practically touched his nose, and she looked intently into his eyes. 

Tiger smiled.

–I’ll keep the pin you attached to the chain, okay?–she asked quietly.

–Does that mean I get the chain? 

–You will need it. How will you feel like a free Tiger without it?