April 2, 2007

Some things out there .·.

While the universe allowed him to use only half the space I use in it today, his mother would allow him to benefit from the window seat whenever possible in every metro ride they took. Patterns formed in front of his eyes as the subway moved underground and the fluorescent lamps from the tunnels' walls followed each other in a simple path, lighting the apparent nothingness through the fortuitously elegant effect.

At that age, details like that meant everything to him. The "stepping-into-conclusions stage" of his life was very probably triggered by the peace he always got when contemplating at the slightest breath exhaled through the common episodes from each day of existence. From the weekly fluorescent wakes highlighting the certain presence of something beyond the tunnels' darkness, a copious flow of observations and their respective ideas arised.

From then on, while he grew up and started using more of the universe's space, the curiosity and the imagination propelled by the basic gestures coming from the ones surrounding him, played a major role in building up his person and in sharpening up abilities. It all made him a respectful being, as well as bringing in a more excited pumping of blood into his developing veins. He learned to love life from that perspective; a perspective which also helped him to become who I am this very day, showed me the best knowledge field for me to study, and taught me how to wait for the best possible woman to love that I could have never imagined, while the fluorescent lamps in the dark were always guiding me in that direction, which now explains why their path always seemed to look like a suspicious smile. Now I use twice the space I did back then, but I am quite sure the universe doesn't mind all that much, since at least half of that volume has been made to enjoy existence in the highest affordable way.

The reason why this all came into my head, is because some other day when coming back from classes in the metro, I saw a mother sat his son -who occupied some half of the space I do in the universe- right next to the train's window, but as we left the station behind and he leaned towards the dark staring at the fluorescent lighting inside the tunnel, his mother pulled him back from the window telling him, "Stop looking, there is nothing out there". I suspiciously smiled to myself.



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