STORY OF A PASSENGER

A girl was waiting for her flight in a large airport lounge.
Since he would have to wait a long time, he decided to buy a book to kill time.
He also bought a packet of cookies.
She sat in the VIP room to be more quiet.
Next to her was the chair with the biscuits and on the other side a gentleman who was reading the newspaper.
When she started taking the first cookie, the man took one too, she felt indignant but said nothing and continued reading her book.
He thought to himself "But look, if only I had a little more courage I would have already punched him ..."
So every time she took a biscuit, the man next to her, without a single sign, took one too.
They continued until there was only one cookie left and the woman thought "Ah, now I just want to see what he tells me when they are all finished !!"
The man took the last cookie and split it in half!
"Ah, this is too much" she thought and began to snort and indignantly took her things, the book and her bag and walked towards the exit of the waiting room.
When he felt a little better and the anger had passed, he sat down on a chair along the corridor so as not to attract too much attention and avoid other sorrows.
He closed the book and opened the bag to put it inside when ... when he opened it he saw that the packet of cookies was still whole inside.
She felt so much ashamed and only at that moment realized that the packet of cookies like hers belonged to that man sitting next to her who had shared his cookies without feeling indignant, nervous or superior, unlike her who had snorted and even she felt wounded in pride.

A LITTLE LIGHT, A LITTLE PLACE

You did not notice it immediately, you were carried away by events. And when you realized how much the current had turned your way, it was late. Maybe too much. Perhaps. Was it the desire to change? To see life from another perspective, to lose certainties and build new ones? By your choice you have taken this path alone, provoked by a force that you have not tested, if not theoretically. And now only a shell remains of you, of your feelings, of what you wanted to say and that you have kept inside. This time it went like this. Again. In the darkness in which you find yourself, thinking about your mistakes and your flaws, there is a fixed point. A light that has always been there: sometimes strong, sometimes intermittent, sometimes dazzling, strong enough to illuminate the darkest nights and guide you through them. You were foolish to take her for granted when she never abandoned you and has always been there. And you love her, more than anything else, so much so that her horizons are expanding beyond yours, where you won’t be able to follow her. Where you cannot be there. She will never take flight, not of her own free will. Have you been blessed by some higher entity stirring in the chaos of the universe, or have you been tested by fate? How can you find out? Going forward. Always with that Light, inside.
I insist on not detaching myself from roots and shoots, I fight to remain attached to what I am, to what generated me. But the wind pulls, time goes by and I am more and more fragile, devoured by an immense curiosity to see the world. Slowly I detach myself, the tree cradles me for a moment in his slender arms, gently, and then throw me upwards, higher and higher, until my ears are plugged with violence, and the pressure becomes feel. Flight and flight, towards the unknown, towards the fog, towards No Man’s Land. I fly on the crest of the air, as if the sea were pushing me, and doubts and paranoia take root, the fog scares me, the sea is stormy, the future still dark. I fly and get scared, I’m afraid. Home Nostalgia also decides to join the party, and a series of mixed feelings try to slow my journey. I’m about to give in, stop flying, start falling. Until all the dreams, the hopes, the projects come to mind. All this takes me by the shoulders, and takes me back to fly, as if I had big wings to carry me. I fly and fly, and I never stop. The future is bright, the fog almost dissolved. I smile at what awaits me, meanwhile I fly.
We never stick to the present tense. We anticipate the future as too slow to come, as if to hasten its course; or we remember the past to stop it as too fast; so imprudent that we err in times that are not ours, and we do not think at all about the only one that belongs to us, and so vain, that we reflect on those who are no longer nothing, and flee without reflecting that alone that exists. The fact is that the present usually hurts us. We hide it from our sight because it afflicts us; if, on the other hand, it is pleasant for us, we regret seeing him flee. We try to support it by means of the future, and we are concerned with disposing of the things that are not in our power, for a time which we are not at all sure of arriving at.
I’ve learned that people are more important than anything else. Which is not the beautiful place, but it is the people who make it so. That you are never really alone if you carry someone in your heart. I learned that distance breaks what cannot stand and unites even more what wants to hold hands. I understand that you can go anywhere, but the most beautiful journey is what you do inside yourself.

%d bloggers like this: