-Do you really think that's who you are?- asked lecturing him.
-Well, not really- answered uninterested. The room was filled with cigar smoke and they have been passing the mate to each other for almost two hours.- I might know who I was or wanted to be, but... - and he couldn't finish the sentence.
-I do know that too -answered the first man- You lived almost your entire life in hometown with family and friends, and the reason why you like so much travelling is because it puts you in an odd situation where you have to figure things out by yourself, and to get to know you. That's why you are asking yourself this question. That's why you ended up in this cold city.
Indeed, it was cold. But travelling also provided him that clarity that comes only when you are far away from daily routine. And the current adventure was, by far, the biggest challenge.
-Well, while I lived back in home I studied my career, work, loved. All of them somehow connected. Even though I was warned about political science as a dead-end, when I was fifteen I saw the -greatest economical crisis, standing as a beholder. Impotent. -paused for a second to put his words together.- I felt it as personal commitment. Don't you think that defines a bit of who am I ?
He inhaled profoundly, preparing to dismiss the argument -And what have you done with that? Because as far as I remember you were also a sailing coach, construction worker, bookstore clerk for several years and that book repair thing that...
-Bookbinding-he interrupted.
-As you please. But where are the politics?- He poked him to get some answers.
-Everywhere, but a political cause is not something to die for, is something that makes us live for it -replied while scratching his hairless chin-. Think about love. Love is inherently political. Every time I felt in love, a true desire to be a better person invades me. A better person for her. I memorized poems, write, travelled long distances, and in most of the cases she didn't even knew, heard, or read what I did for her. But that's not the point of it.
While speaking, his eyes where lost in the cheesy table mat. But once done, he raised his head, saw his smile holding the laugh and the cocky look.
-Corny!-. He coughed.
-Love ain't just something that happens between two individuals. Is wider, way more complex and fulfilling than that-.
But there was no reply. Instead, he raised his shoulders. The conversation was going out of topic.
-And that´s your help when I truly ask you who am I? You know my life better than anyone...
-But you will never find out that talking to me-. He looked at him honestly. With his question still unanswered, he grabbed his coat, gave a last look to the man sitting on the table and left without his keys. He won't see him again.
-Well, not really- answered uninterested. The room was filled with cigar smoke and they have been passing the mate to each other for almost two hours.- I might know who I was or wanted to be, but... - and he couldn't finish the sentence.
-I do know that too -answered the first man- You lived almost your entire life in hometown with family and friends, and the reason why you like so much travelling is because it puts you in an odd situation where you have to figure things out by yourself, and to get to know you. That's why you are asking yourself this question. That's why you ended up in this cold city.
Indeed, it was cold. But travelling also provided him that clarity that comes only when you are far away from daily routine. And the current adventure was, by far, the biggest challenge.
-Well, while I lived back in home I studied my career, work, loved. All of them somehow connected. Even though I was warned about political science as a dead-end, when I was fifteen I saw the -greatest economical crisis, standing as a beholder. Impotent. -paused for a second to put his words together.- I felt it as personal commitment. Don't you think that defines a bit of who am I ?
He inhaled profoundly, preparing to dismiss the argument -And what have you done with that? Because as far as I remember you were also a sailing coach, construction worker, bookstore clerk for several years and that book repair thing that...
-Bookbinding-he interrupted.
-As you please. But where are the politics?- He poked him to get some answers.
-Everywhere, but a political cause is not something to die for, is something that makes us live for it -replied while scratching his hairless chin-. Think about love. Love is inherently political. Every time I felt in love, a true desire to be a better person invades me. A better person for her. I memorized poems, write, travelled long distances, and in most of the cases she didn't even knew, heard, or read what I did for her. But that's not the point of it.
While speaking, his eyes where lost in the cheesy table mat. But once done, he raised his head, saw his smile holding the laugh and the cocky look.
-Corny!-. He coughed.
-Love ain't just something that happens between two individuals. Is wider, way more complex and fulfilling than that-.
But there was no reply. Instead, he raised his shoulders. The conversation was going out of topic.
-And that´s your help when I truly ask you who am I? You know my life better than anyone...
-But you will never find out that talking to me-. He looked at him honestly. With his question still unanswered, he grabbed his coat, gave a last look to the man sitting on the table and left without his keys. He won't see him again.
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