I sit on a wooden bench, the air tinted with yellow, my gaze slightly blurred. I sit, quietly observing, sensing, trying to understand, repeating every gesture. That scent, those hands covered with wrinkles, the marks of experience and the wisdom of this world. I feel safe, carefree, protected by those hands.
The air shifts, my sight becomes clearer. Still the hands… the same ones? No. These are mine. With every second, more and more like the ones before. They’ve already walked some path, learned something. Why does no one look at these hands the way I once did? I wasn’t alone. There were many of us — not children, grandchildren…
Time has moved on, the lightness of life has faded… maybe only from our minds, and those minds have changed our lives. Why do I sit in a beautiful apartment, headphones on my ears, watching the calm of birds flying above the lake? Does it sound positive? Yes, for a moment. Those hands back then never thought about things like this. They had plenty of struggles with a hard life. But there were no headphones, no world-famous artists. The birds were singing, children were laughing.
So take off the headphones and listen to those birds… maybe… and what about that laughter? It’s time to bring it all back onto the right path.
Why do you teach us how to be good in life… I’m not blaming you… but why didn’t you remind us more often of the need for happiness, the need for laughter?