A fearful person. That is the perfect word to characterize him. The man wearing the viridian mask was always silent while his thoughts could torment any demon in hell. He thought that words have no meaning when you can conquer the world with your actions. Even if deep down in my soul I believed in his theories, I think of him as truly mistaken.
The sky is cloudy and the black widow surprises me with her serendipity and negligence of the revengeful heavens. The city lights are blurry, reflecting as murderous shadows on the glassy windows. The autumn leaves seem all blackish now, same pattern and nuance. The pine trees are moody because their children are gone and the dirty water of the rain has sickened them. Somehow, those pines trees can resemble to the viridian man. His seedy provision has the same effect on my disposition. Even if it is a fact well known, I cannot accept it. I wish his branches could expand more on my thoughtful mind and answer to my pitiful questions. I am being conquered and pestered by every possible word that can come out of his mouth.
The walls around me are whitish and the furniture seems nothing like luxury. The mattress has no sheets on it and the floor is cold. The window is half opened. I can see the wildness of the human souls pondering on the streets; some indecisive, others lighthearted.
The viridian man was still wearing his impersonal mask. His lips won’t curve into a smile and his eyes won’t show any annoyance. Some may say that hiding what’s torturing you is the only armor that can protect you from the untamed world. I might agree but in the viridian man’s case I fear he excesses the use of this lethal drug.
The cold weather whispered me a story about the cruelty of love. It was nothing like the stories I have heard before, or seen during my life experience. People find it perfectly easy to eradicate the truth from their lives. It scares me and apart from that, it distresses me quite deeply. It is the first time that a black lying crow sat on my soul, making itself comfortable, he fed himself with terrible lies about his unrealistic reality. I am not judging him. I am just annoyed by his insensibility.
The four ladies reminded me a lot of him. They were sitting on their plastic chairs, smiling mockingly at the public, myself included, talking or even better said, rambling about the beauty of an abortive bunch of thoughts. I let them unravel their lies, one by one, judging,yes judging my dears, every word that comes out of their mouths. At the end of their ‘moral speech’ I stood still on my chair, wondering whether I should let them know what I was thinking. But who would resist the temptation of saying their truthful opinion after an hour of listening to their untruthful ramblings? Would you? I wouldn’t.
Standing up my feet were shaking. I don’t know if that was a consequence of the cold weather or the distress that conquered me. I approached one of them politely and let my mouth ramble as she was gazing directly into my eyes.
” Good evening madame. I have been listening with attention every single word that you all said. I understand that you enjoyed the book and that you recommend it to everyone in this room. But that’s not enough for me. We read a book and at the end of it there are aspects that we found impressive and perhaps others that confused or didn’t like us. What is it that you didn’t’ like about this book?”
The answer that she served me, quite politely but disturbed, proved my doubts well thought.
“I liked all of it. There isn’t something that I found badly written.” She continued her reply by telling me the same things that I heard a few minutes before. Her eyes betrayed her once again. She wasn’t truthful.
The arrogance of humans was now standing before my eyes, flesh and bones. The need of making me believe in her god, which apparently was named ‘Money’, disgusted me. I learned afterwards that her job was teaching philology to high school students. Do you see why I was that traumatised by her words? Because, I see it perfectly.