lunes, 2 de marzo de 2009

Looking for something


This is a story of a man who had lost something. And for what he could remember, it was something very precious to him.
Everytime he tried to remember, tears began to kiss his Rossy cheeks.
This was a very lonely man, who had no family nor friends. The only purpose of this person was finding that precious lost thing, for him nothing else mattered.
Everyone called him the crazy man with the purple jacket, for one of the only things he remembered was that delightful color.
His usual routine was to walk from his house in the middle of the night to the nearby park, wearing as usual that purple jacket and weird old looking boots. And he looked everywhere, searching every corner of every place his old boots could take him.
You could hear people calling nasty names and making rude jokes. But he didn't seem to care, he seemed to be in a different world or reality.
The last place this man wanted to be was his house. Sometimes it took days and chilly nights before going back home. And he walked and walked and walked as slowly as he could. Many people wondered what was inside his mind, he always looked so calm and serene.
The time passed and passed and his dark brown hair became gray, and wrinkles began to show, showing what life had given him.
One lonely cold night he returned home, wanting nothing more but to seat in his old chair, behind his old dark wood desk that he had avoided so many year before. So while walking in his usual slow pace, he reached the door. Smelling and tasting the chilly air, the wind blowing his long grey hairs.
He opened the door, the only sound anyone could hear was the creaking sound of the door as it slowly opened.
He walked in his usual slow pace entering the long corridor, and he noticed a dim light as he was getting near.

As he passed the door, he remembered what was lost, what he had forgotten and tears began to show in the corners of his eyes. As he saw, seating on his favorite chair behind his desk that beautiful young woman, her purple eyes staring at him in a loving way, her long brown hair moving and that giddy smile, her long fingers pointing at his old typing machine.

Karla Yeme

4 comentarios: