The man. Part one.

Back then, I didn't know that a person can change my life.

It all started with rain.

And his bright yellow hair.

There are times when you start thinking about such simple phenomena as rain.

It rains and you stand and get soaked.

Hair sticks to your face and your clothes too.

And at such a moment, you start thinking about banal things that even a child can understand.

For example, about how the rain stops and the sky becomes clear.

These kinds of thoughts are needed to allow yourself to feel like a simple person for a moment.

A person who is alive and must understand, feel the world around him.  Even if, every second the world slips out of hand, along with the river called "Time."

Sometimes you just need to think about simple things.  Not just about rain.

For example, about how that lady's shoes in green steps over the surface of the asphalt.  Or about this man's tie that dances in the wind.

Sometimes, you need to dive into everything.  All the details of this world.  Stop and listen to the sounds of the wind, to the sounds of thoughts that sometimes remain unheard.

Sometimes, just observing the world is enough to understand the whole essence of life.

And here I am.

I have a fresh newspaper in my hands.  People, words rush past my eyes.  I put the newspaper on my knees and start watching people.

People, for me, they are better than any book, any newspaper, any film.

I look at them, I want to understand them.  And sometimes I want to become like them.

While I was looking at passers-by, a train rushed past me and stopped nearby.

From the train, when the doors opened, people began to appear through the smoke.  And at that moment, when red, black, green, yellow, brown dresses and formal suits of gentlemen appeared before they themselves, at that moment, I suddenly remembered about stardust.

Human is made of stardust.  The stars died for the human being.  People are stars who have finally found their appearance.  But do they shine like before?

Of course, how ill- mannered I am  With all this rain and stardust, I completely forgot to introduce myself.

And so ladies and gentlemen, in front of you now, there is a man in an expensive black suit that has a bright feature in the form of a red bowtie at the base of the neck and the same red vest inside the jacket.  And also you can notice the golden chain, which is a continuation from the watch that I got from my distant grandfather.

If you have imagined my appearance, then perhaps it is worth describing to you how I look.  After all, as I understood for all 34 years, the face is what people pay attention to and sometimes even forget about other things.  About such as, for example, character and soul.

If you look up from my shiny black shoes and a little higher, you will see a thin face with expressive black eyes.  And above them are thick eyebrows that give my appearance a stern and sometimes naive image.  I also have a nose.

But I will focus on the nose because, as my grandmother taught me, the shape of the nose determines the beauty of the face.

Therefore, I can confidently, (and brag a little), declare that my nose is perfectly straight and even.

And even lower, then there, just lips that are always compressed in seriousness.  Lips that have not smiled and laughed heartily for a very long time.

But what is most memorable about my look is that I have very long hair.

If I turn my back to you, you will see a long ponitail pinned up with an invisible hairpin.

As far back as I can remember, I have always had long hair.  I have never cut my hair.  Since childhood, my hair has been below my shoulders.  And sometimes looking at my reflection, it seemed to me that in these wavy curls, I could drown as in the waves of the ocean.

My image has appeared before you, now my name.

My name is Skyemoone.

Yes, it could mean what you are thinking.  The sky and the moon. But people who know me call me either Skye or simply Moon.

Why was I called that?  And the answer is obvious, I don't know.  Maybe it's because my parents are very fond of astronomy.  But one thing I know for sure, if not for this name, then my name would be - Sirius or Mars.

So what do we have?

A tall man (and here I am again bragging), 34 years old, with long wavy hair, the name Skyemoone and I am a professor.

I teach at a university with a very good reputation.  And I teach Philosophy.  A favorite subject for those who like to think, and those who like to sleep.

I love my job.  I like to stand in the spotlight and talk about difficult things.  But sometimes it seems to me that I am not teaching students, I am teaching myself.

It so happens that I can talk about such things as life, being, and at the same time listen to myself from the outside.  As if I can hear myself from the outside.  I delve into my words and learn something new.

Perhaps this is why a teacher who is a student of himself sometimes does not notice how some students sleep in his lectures.

But overall, I love to be in this place where different people want to understand the world in different ways, where everyone wants to see the world through their own prism.

If I don't stop now from the topic of Philosophy and my job, then this story could take all 500 pages.  Better to stop now and move on to what I'm doing after the lectures.

When my working day comes to an end, I go to the train station or just to the bus stop and just sit there until my stomach completely drills a hole in me from hunger.

Why am I sitting there?  Perhaps because in places where people are waiting for their time to leave this city, I feel my desire to leave this place.  Just pack my suitcase and leave.  Forever and ever.

Once I even packed my suitcase and bought a plane ticket to the city L.

But I didn't find the courage to get on a plane to leave this big city forever, in which there is no place for time to just sit and think.  Instead of leaving it all behind forever, I went to university and answered a question from one of my students.

He asked me what is most important in this life.  And I replied that there is no such thing as "the most important."

Because these words are too loud, and what is loud, then it is not so important.

"Most important" is simply a synonym for attachment.  And each person has his own attachment.

I think he understood me then, he just thanked me and left.

But I still did not understand my answer to the question of what is important.  Maybe because there are no attachments in my life.

Besides the fact that I love to spend time at the train station or at the airports for no reason, I also write books.  A year ago I wrote a book that spread very quickly all over the world.

I love to write.  And I write mostly about difficult things in a rather ironic form.

To my surprise, people liked my book which has boring Philosophical topics in it.

They loved my thoughts because they did not understand them.  Knowledge is given to those who do not understand.