Two strangers

I stroll through this deserted little town. It's freezing, and there aren't many people on the streets. If I'm honest, I try to avoid them because they create turmoil in my heart, soul, and mind at that moment.

I wear headphones, listening to music that further weighs down my heart and spreads sadness in my soul. There are so many questions and concerns in my brain. They say that student days are some of the best. I want to experience that and don't want to rush into the adult world. I feel the chains slowly tightening around my dreams and desires. I try to resist, but the more I try, the deeper and darker I sink into the darkness.

How difficult is it to be loved? Why is this world so greedy? I look at the city's countless lights and the sky and thoughtlessly think, "So much light in the world, we see the way, yet it is still dark and cold."

I walk without any particular direction, wanting to admire this wonderful night darkness that prevails over the city. There's just enough light to see the path. I find a dark tunnel with beautiful graffiti. It somehow reminds me of life; at the beginning, it's so bright, and at times, it's very dark, but throughout the journey, it's accompanied by graffiti that illuminates and gives hope to life by the end of the day.

The graffiti are made by young artists in the city. Each piece of graffiti has its own story, like a scene from life. From fighting dragons to peaceful and beautifully imaginative landscapes. A mix of happiness and sadness. Each artist found a different source of inspiration. Inspiration is the artist's muse. Depending on the artist, the beauty of inspiration is in the eyes of one artist. Every artist believes in their ideal.

The sea can calm the strongest storms in a cluttered heart, at least for a moment. Looking into the distant horizon causes a commotion in my consciousness. How small are my worries? How important is one individual in the face of the broad horizon of distant landscapes? On one side is the vast horizon, and on the other side is a city with many lights that brilliantly display its beauty like a star in the sky.

During this cold February night, I noticed a male figure of average height standing by the fence. February is a magical month, a month of love for many, but not for me. There is snow and frost in the mountains, and on the coast, there is sun and shine. Both are risky, yet so beautiful. No one and nothing around us, just two strangers, each focused on their thoughts. The fence is placed on a large terrace of the ramparts, and next to it are three benches and two large older trees obscure it. He stands leaning and often turns. He admires the cold air, the beauty of the sea, and the giant beehive on the shore.

The beehive works all year round. Ships come and go like diligent bees. Sometimes, it's incredible how the whole system never stops functioning. The figure caught my attention because he was probably the only person in my surroundings. I sit with my coffee on the rampart at a certain distance from him. I don't want to scare him away like a bird preparing to fly.

The aroma of a prolonged espresso with milk and Irish rum distracts me because I love drinking that coffee. After a few moments of diverted attention, I returned to the subject of my observation. The music sounds happier now, yet it's just as sad, cold, and painful as before. The figure focused on one villa of this landscape, the distant horizon that had exhausted all my attention. It's beautiful to watch a person enchanted by the landscape. Peace and happiness filled the dark voids of my heart during the observation period.

Over the next few moments, the stranger becomes nervous. He lit a cigarette that he wanted to finish quickly. It's a special feeling when a person who is a stranger to us suddenly changes their mood. I believe everyone has their stream of thoughts, just as I did before this chance encounter. My train of thought was interrupted, but he continued uninterrupted. I noticed him, but he didn't notice me. It was a meeting, yet still a passing. A touch of thoughts, yet there was none. It all depends on the perspective of events.

He turned and extinguished the cigarette. His hair was longer than the average male hairstyle. He wore glasses on his sharp face that suited his appearance. I wondered what trouble could be troubling him then, causing him to light a cigarette, wanting to finish it nervously. It's strange how sometimes we start something because we love it but don't appreciate the moment of that pleasure. In this situation, the moment when nicotine passes through the body and triggers mechanisms in the organism that bring joy to one person's nervous system. Yet he tried to finish the cigarette as quickly as possible because of his concern that weighed him down.

With his turn, the colours came to life. Winter disappeared, and spring began. An incredible smell of the sea envelops the two strangers. The view cleared the darkest parts of the soul. Birds seemed to sing, and people walking around us no longer seemed like a threat. The riot of colours spread through the air and sound. Suddenly, happiness has a smell, peace has a sound, and silence spreads its taste.

I think what particularly interested me was when I saw the skateboard with him. He started riding it, and thus, he slipped away from me into the crowd of buildings and constructions surrounding the old Italian square of the city. Just before leaving, I asked him, "Where are you going? Where are you headed?" He answered with a look, silence, and his course of movement. I thought I was leading a conversation for the first time since the beginning of this encounter. All the blended colours had created a spring storm within me and beyond.

The stranger, in unimaginable radiance, showed attention to me. I am no longer just an observer but also the subject of observation. It wasn't known about me, yet my character came to life in his story. I wish I hadn't become an object of analysis because I prefer experiencing the role of an observer. I cannot describe myself, and I doubt the stranger will ever immortalise that encounter. He will forget, but I will remember my stranger in this story for a long time.

I saw that he was nervous and that he also didn't know the direction he would like to go. For a while longer, until the end of my coffee, I thought about him, about the stranger who visited my thoughts and left without a memorable farewell.

As he left this spring place in the deserted winter, the colours disappeared, and happiness slowly dimmed, but peace remained. He diverted my train of thought, but at the same time, with his presence, he removed a high level of concern and sadness that was swelling in my soul. A stranger who conversed with me in silence.

We met, yet we didn't speak. I learned a lot and nothing about him. I enjoyed every moment of that encounter that actually never happened.

Just as the lights in the city illuminate the darkness throughout that settlement, just as the stars in the sky with their rebellion display and illuminate the darkness, so does one stranger who didn't utter a word to me illuminate my evening and brighten my gloomy and dark thoughts.

Two acquaintances, two strangers.

Take care stranger/friend!