joe94
06-03-2013, 11:50 PM
It's been ten days since his wife past, two months since his son last came to visit, eight years since his grandson was born and eighty years since he was. But now, now nothing is happening, time is standing still and around him the world would not stop moving. It is as if he no longer takes part in the same reality. If he was a different man he would have stopped thinking a long time ago, like everyone. If he was a different man he would have stopped searching a long time ago. He's been searching for over sixty years, maybe sixty five and he still could not find it. It seems as if everyone else have found there's, and it's not fair since he is the only one who's really looking.
He lived in a small apartment in a big building in a bigger town. Just over a week ago the apartment seemed allot bigger and the building and town allot smaller. Just over a week ago he didn’t even look the walls in his apartment, now they are all he sees. These walls that imprison him, imprison his mind, his thoughts. That night he laid on his back in his bed and stared at the ceiling. Lately he would often stare at things he had never noticed before. He would wonder whether they were truly there before, the ceiling, the walls, the stains on the coffee table, that dent in the dark wooden floor. And while he was staring at the ceiling he thought, what's left for me here? Who am I here for if not for me? And the walls, the ceiling, the stains, the wooden floor, the closets and the clothes in them, who are they here for if not for me? And so he passed the night with his eyes on the ceiling and his mind on the sky.
The next day, as he woke, the first thing he noticed was the ceiling. It was still there, just the same. In his mind he traveled a thousand miles that night but now he was back in the same bed, under the same ceiling. He then gazed at the window, he just wanted to get away from these walls, just for a little while, and then he saw it. He saw the sky through the clouds and started thinking. He thought about all the places he wanted to be at and realized he wasn't at any of them. He thought about all the things he wanted to do and realized he wasn't doing any of them. Now he wasn't looking at anything, only thinking, who am I here for if not for me? He took his most precious belongings, his clothes, his books, his money and his memories, walked out of his apartment, locked the door and through away the key. He went down to the street and took the first bus out of town. He forgot the photo album at his old apartment.
And as the bus went out of town he was reminded of how small the town really was. It's been years since he saw the real world, only his own. Like a child he gazed out the window, seeing everything as if for the first time since he had already forgotten. He saw the fields, the mountains, the villages, the trees and most importantly, the sky. Not with in his mind but with his eyes. Hours past this way, it was as if the sun hadn't moved an inch. And so he remained glued to the windows of the bus never turning his gaze and never wondering about his destination. After a while, doesn't seem so long now, the bus entered a tunnel in the mountains. They drove through the tunnel for what seemed like days, and in it there was nothing but darkness. Every once in a while there was a sign, a small parking space that was always empty and an elevator that was never used. And they always returned at the same order, again and again. His face was still glued to the window but now for a different reason, not by fascination but by boredom. And so he passed those agonizing days in the tunnel. And all of a sudden, just before he fell asleep a bright light woke his. He saw the sea spread out beneath him, he saw the beach and the rocks all there placed to perfection. It was the best sight he ever saw. It was even more beautiful than the fields, villages, mountains and the trees. But the sky, the sky was just the same. In a moment he went out of his boredom and was once again glued to the window by fascination. In that moment he thought to himself, I nearly missed this, I nearly fell asleep and all of this was as if it had never been at all. At the corner of his eye he saw another tunnel up the road. At that moment he pressed the stop button and got out to the beach. He looked around took a deep breath, the deepest he took in years and thought, I am here for me and nobody else.
He walked over and sat down on a green old lonely bench. He sat there and gazed at the sea. In his eyes he saw only the clear blue water, in his lips he tasted only salt, in his ears he heard only the wind and in his mind he thought of nothing. And so he sat there on that bench, alone. And once again he drifted on to another reality, once again nothing was happening, once again the world began to move while he stood still. And so he spent the night on that green old lonely bench, staring at the sky.
The next morning he was woken up by a police officer. Is everything all right? The officer asked. I'm not sure, said the man. I was sure once, but now, now I just don’t know. The officer looked at him, he did not understand. He saw just another crazy man who has no idea what he's saying. The officer noticed the man's bags and thought he might just have hope after all, a destination. Are you lost? The officer asked. were you trying to go somewhere? No, the man replied this was just the place I wanted to be. This man has no hope after all the officer thought, he completely lost his mind. There is an inn just up the hill, you can't stay here on this bench, do you have any money? The man showed him all his belongings, the clothes, the books, the money, the memories and explained to him that he no longer needs them and would trade them gladly. The officer looked upon his belongings with pity and valued it at four nights at the inn. And so the man went with the police officer to the inn got into his new room laid on his new bed and stared at the ceiling. This time he didn't manage to stare for three seconds as he fell asleep.
After a few hours his sleep was interrupted by a loud knock on the door. He opened his eyes and slowly got out of bed. The knocking was heard again, much louder. Step by step he walked over the bright wooden floor closer and closer to the door. He began to open the door as it was pushed from the other side and opened. It was his son, on his face was a look of anger but in his eyes he could only see worry. His son quickly entered the center of the room and there he stood. Are you out of your mind? Asked the son, how can you leave your life like this? Without telling us? Without asking? He looked at his son, once he was his world, once he was his inspiration. That little boy with dirt and torn clothes now wearing a clean suite, just like he bought it, just like it looked on the manikin. The boy that had only questions now has only answers and the questions went to his eyes. For years I've been searching in my old apartment, in that building, that town. For years I've been searching for no use, he replied. I am tired of this desire to find something I don’t believe exists anymore, not for me. So I ran, I ran until I didn't want to run anymore and found myself here. Here I am not searching, I haven’t found it but it doesn't matter since the search is over. And in the end maybe the goal is found by stopping to search for it. Since after all, to search for something is to admit you don’t have it. And so in order to find it you must stop looking. His son stared at him, he was silent for a while, trying to find the appropriate reply for such madness. He never hoped such a thing would happen to him. He hoped everything would go according to plan, as it should, as he was told it would. And what about money? The son asked. How will you be able to afford such a place? The man explained to his son how he gave away all he owned, the clothes, the books and the money. All for four days. Are you mad? His son asked. How could you have given away all your property, all your life for four days? And what would we do if you outlive those days? Have you thought of that? And then the son went silent and thought of what he said. I will return tomorrow and stay with you for the remaining days and ounce it is over you will return with me to the real life. He did not reply, he only stood in silence. In a moment his son was out of the apartment just as fast as he entered and disappeared into the tunnel.
And so he was left at the corner of the room desperately trying to feel the void his son left. Only then did he begin to think. What am I doing here? What was I thinking? How could I have thrown my life away? He began to look around as a terrible sense of anxiety began to shiver down his spine. He noticed the walls, the ceiling and the wooden floor. Suddenly they seemed identical to those he lived with for years. It was getting dark, and he could no longer see the sky from the window, only darkness. Suddenly he began to feel a strange weakness in his legs. His body began to tremble. He carried himself over to the bedroom while trying desperately not to fall and eventually he sunk into his bed. Now he was laying on his back, in his bed and his eyes were staring at the ceiling. He moved his eyes and started to see himself in his old apartment. And all of his clothes, books, money and memories were his once more.
He lived in a small apartment in a big building in a bigger town. Just over a week ago the apartment seemed allot bigger and the building and town allot smaller. Just over a week ago he didn’t even look the walls in his apartment, now they are all he sees. These walls that imprison him, imprison his mind, his thoughts. That night he laid on his back in his bed and stared at the ceiling. Lately he would often stare at things he had never noticed before. He would wonder whether they were truly there before, the ceiling, the walls, the stains on the coffee table, that dent in the dark wooden floor. And while he was staring at the ceiling he thought, what's left for me here? Who am I here for if not for me? And the walls, the ceiling, the stains, the wooden floor, the closets and the clothes in them, who are they here for if not for me? And so he passed the night with his eyes on the ceiling and his mind on the sky.
The next day, as he woke, the first thing he noticed was the ceiling. It was still there, just the same. In his mind he traveled a thousand miles that night but now he was back in the same bed, under the same ceiling. He then gazed at the window, he just wanted to get away from these walls, just for a little while, and then he saw it. He saw the sky through the clouds and started thinking. He thought about all the places he wanted to be at and realized he wasn't at any of them. He thought about all the things he wanted to do and realized he wasn't doing any of them. Now he wasn't looking at anything, only thinking, who am I here for if not for me? He took his most precious belongings, his clothes, his books, his money and his memories, walked out of his apartment, locked the door and through away the key. He went down to the street and took the first bus out of town. He forgot the photo album at his old apartment.
And as the bus went out of town he was reminded of how small the town really was. It's been years since he saw the real world, only his own. Like a child he gazed out the window, seeing everything as if for the first time since he had already forgotten. He saw the fields, the mountains, the villages, the trees and most importantly, the sky. Not with in his mind but with his eyes. Hours past this way, it was as if the sun hadn't moved an inch. And so he remained glued to the windows of the bus never turning his gaze and never wondering about his destination. After a while, doesn't seem so long now, the bus entered a tunnel in the mountains. They drove through the tunnel for what seemed like days, and in it there was nothing but darkness. Every once in a while there was a sign, a small parking space that was always empty and an elevator that was never used. And they always returned at the same order, again and again. His face was still glued to the window but now for a different reason, not by fascination but by boredom. And so he passed those agonizing days in the tunnel. And all of a sudden, just before he fell asleep a bright light woke his. He saw the sea spread out beneath him, he saw the beach and the rocks all there placed to perfection. It was the best sight he ever saw. It was even more beautiful than the fields, villages, mountains and the trees. But the sky, the sky was just the same. In a moment he went out of his boredom and was once again glued to the window by fascination. In that moment he thought to himself, I nearly missed this, I nearly fell asleep and all of this was as if it had never been at all. At the corner of his eye he saw another tunnel up the road. At that moment he pressed the stop button and got out to the beach. He looked around took a deep breath, the deepest he took in years and thought, I am here for me and nobody else.
He walked over and sat down on a green old lonely bench. He sat there and gazed at the sea. In his eyes he saw only the clear blue water, in his lips he tasted only salt, in his ears he heard only the wind and in his mind he thought of nothing. And so he sat there on that bench, alone. And once again he drifted on to another reality, once again nothing was happening, once again the world began to move while he stood still. And so he spent the night on that green old lonely bench, staring at the sky.
The next morning he was woken up by a police officer. Is everything all right? The officer asked. I'm not sure, said the man. I was sure once, but now, now I just don’t know. The officer looked at him, he did not understand. He saw just another crazy man who has no idea what he's saying. The officer noticed the man's bags and thought he might just have hope after all, a destination. Are you lost? The officer asked. were you trying to go somewhere? No, the man replied this was just the place I wanted to be. This man has no hope after all the officer thought, he completely lost his mind. There is an inn just up the hill, you can't stay here on this bench, do you have any money? The man showed him all his belongings, the clothes, the books, the money, the memories and explained to him that he no longer needs them and would trade them gladly. The officer looked upon his belongings with pity and valued it at four nights at the inn. And so the man went with the police officer to the inn got into his new room laid on his new bed and stared at the ceiling. This time he didn't manage to stare for three seconds as he fell asleep.
After a few hours his sleep was interrupted by a loud knock on the door. He opened his eyes and slowly got out of bed. The knocking was heard again, much louder. Step by step he walked over the bright wooden floor closer and closer to the door. He began to open the door as it was pushed from the other side and opened. It was his son, on his face was a look of anger but in his eyes he could only see worry. His son quickly entered the center of the room and there he stood. Are you out of your mind? Asked the son, how can you leave your life like this? Without telling us? Without asking? He looked at his son, once he was his world, once he was his inspiration. That little boy with dirt and torn clothes now wearing a clean suite, just like he bought it, just like it looked on the manikin. The boy that had only questions now has only answers and the questions went to his eyes. For years I've been searching in my old apartment, in that building, that town. For years I've been searching for no use, he replied. I am tired of this desire to find something I don’t believe exists anymore, not for me. So I ran, I ran until I didn't want to run anymore and found myself here. Here I am not searching, I haven’t found it but it doesn't matter since the search is over. And in the end maybe the goal is found by stopping to search for it. Since after all, to search for something is to admit you don’t have it. And so in order to find it you must stop looking. His son stared at him, he was silent for a while, trying to find the appropriate reply for such madness. He never hoped such a thing would happen to him. He hoped everything would go according to plan, as it should, as he was told it would. And what about money? The son asked. How will you be able to afford such a place? The man explained to his son how he gave away all he owned, the clothes, the books and the money. All for four days. Are you mad? His son asked. How could you have given away all your property, all your life for four days? And what would we do if you outlive those days? Have you thought of that? And then the son went silent and thought of what he said. I will return tomorrow and stay with you for the remaining days and ounce it is over you will return with me to the real life. He did not reply, he only stood in silence. In a moment his son was out of the apartment just as fast as he entered and disappeared into the tunnel.
And so he was left at the corner of the room desperately trying to feel the void his son left. Only then did he begin to think. What am I doing here? What was I thinking? How could I have thrown my life away? He began to look around as a terrible sense of anxiety began to shiver down his spine. He noticed the walls, the ceiling and the wooden floor. Suddenly they seemed identical to those he lived with for years. It was getting dark, and he could no longer see the sky from the window, only darkness. Suddenly he began to feel a strange weakness in his legs. His body began to tremble. He carried himself over to the bedroom while trying desperately not to fall and eventually he sunk into his bed. Now he was laying on his back, in his bed and his eyes were staring at the ceiling. He moved his eyes and started to see himself in his old apartment. And all of his clothes, books, money and memories were his once more.