Tuesday, November 25, 2003 :::
He Must Be From Another World
Draped in a plain oversized T-shirt, and in shorts that failed to conceal his gangly frame, the old man limped unsteadily across the square. He mingled amidst the throng, yet was not part of it. He was there, yet his prescence was not felt. He must be from another world.
He halted at the lamppost. No one noticed. Laying his only possession beside him as he lowered himself precariously, his bones cracked from the exertion, and a little grunt of agony escaped. It was lost in the cacophonies. Pushing his little cup in front of him, he looked pleadingly into the eyes of those who might look at him in the eye. He never saw a pair of eyes at him. He was invisible. He must be from another world.
The young man strolled out onto the square, adequate, spry at his own abundance. Nothing amiss, he thought, just the usual hustle and bustle of life and its participants. He halted, and smelled the air. It was crisp and cool in the bask of the setting sun. It occurred to him that he never had a view of the world from this angle, this perspective before. He slowed his breathing and studied the area.
He never noticed before that the tiles on the squaaure were of intricately ornated design. He never noted how beautiful the shadows could be against the contrast of the stone and glass in the backdrop. But something caught his eye, something jutting, something that did not belong to this world.
He stood there watching silently as he glanced about, sometimes holding his cup up, rattling it while peering inside. He saw the multitude pass and come by, his hope in his eyes undulating while every wave. He stood a long time. He sat a long time.
He came in measured steps towards him, his hand reaching for something in his back pocket. He bent and placed it slowly in his cup, and cupped his hands over his shaking hands. He could only manage a weak smile in untold gratitude, and to him, it was enough.
As he left, a wave of realisation and revelation flowed through him. He could feel that he was no longer the same. He lifted up both his hands and inspected them. He could feel he was in control of the conscious part of him. Something that told him that he was just an entity in a dimension that was an illusion. Something that told him he was real in an unreal world. Something that told him that he and him, were from another world.
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::: posted by Richard Wan at 3:31 AM
