Silhouetted

6.1 Opus 6; Silent Longing

I

Let me start this part of myself. Because the night seemed to be long, and suddenly I felt lonely. I went back to my duties, I think I have read hundreds of files, but why is the pile still high?

Lonesome. Lonesome. Who can explain loneliness? Sometimes even in a crowd we can feel lonely. So loneliness is not because of the environment or people around.

Loneliness comes from within.

I told you, I think the night lengthens. Stretch your body and drink the rest of the coffee I ordered this afternoon. It's cold, but I don't care.

I finally decided to go home. In the office there is no one. There's a security guard at the front gate. I packed my things, a backpack and a light green parasitic jacket. I went out and found a security guard watching a midnight movie. At his desk there were traces of coffee. When I got closer to say goodbye, I saw a swimming lizard in the rest of the coffee. But he didn't know, he was too busy watching.

I went through the gate and I saw the empty highway. It's past midnight and half the city is already in bed. But the other half doesn't seem to be on the road. They're engrossed in places I don't need to tell. From where I stand, I can see a three-level flyover. Proof of work and the human mind that feels itself great. I remember the tower of Babylon. Plan to build a tower up to the sky to see God completely. Crazy plan. But I guess the creator of this flyover also long had a plan to make a direct path to heaven (or hell?).

Ah, why am I thinking too? I'm tired, I choose to walk along the damp sidewalk. The rest of the rain this afternoon. My contract was close, maybe ten minutes too, but I slept in the office more often, looking at work that was not exhausted. My life is in the office. Reasonable right? How many people do not grow old on the streets? Not being a loyal time-waster at the office desk and in the meeting room?

How many people are actually alive? And enjoying life?

While pondering so suddenly a metallic sedan stopped. So suddenly, beside me. I got jumped. Am I going to be kidnapped?

But soon I saw the windshield open and a face appeared along with the sound of a violin emerging from the radio on the dashboard.

That face?

“Hai! You just got home?”

I nodded, she opened the door next to the remote-driven one. Advanced car too!

“Ink, we go for a walk first!”

“Where?”

“Log in first!”

“I'm so tired! It's night, tomorrow I have to work!”

“Come in first yes, we have not seen.” for a long time

I looked at those eyes. He's a man but his eyes are so cute. Maybe he's my friend, maybe not. I forgot when I last saw you. Maybe last month. At a book fair? Or in my office?

He returned with his hopeful voice. Finally I filled also his invitation, pity he heard his voice that half wailed half whining. Besides, I thought I could sleep on the couch of his soft car, not much more than meet a hard mattress in my contract again.

After the door closed, the car drove away. I'm laying down the chair back. Hoping that at some point I would fall asleep. Kupandangi sky. Blacker. Stars scattered. Suddenly I felt romantic alone. From my corner lying down I saw a big billboard, no pictures of anything, highlighted by the light of the lamp. Brightest. There I saw nothing but joy. Also empty.

While the car radio broadcasts a show that doesn't know what its name is. The voice of the announcer sounded sad. Now he told me about a letter sent to him from a listener, and soon would call him.

I sat quietly while my friend had not said anything. He also listened to the radio. Now the announcer is talking to the sender.

 “Right now I'm feeling homesick.”.

I opened my eyes and thought. Isn't that the voice of the hooded woman earlier?

VIOLIN

There's one story I'm still not sure about, but to be honest, I like it. I heard this story the first time my grandmother accompanied me before bed and brought me a bedtime story from a book that was not covered. The story goes back to Niccolo Paganini, when he played a concert for his devotees that filled the room. At that time he played violin with a full orchestra.

Suddenly one of his violin strings broke. Cold sweat started to wet his forehead, but he continued to play the song. A very surprising incident, the other violin strings were broken one by one until they left only one string. But he kept playing. When the spectators saw he had only one string and kept playing, they stood up and shouted

“Great, great.”

After boisterous applause, Paganini told them to sit down. The audience thought, there is no way Paganini can play with just one string. Paganini saluted the audience and signaled the orchestra conductor to continue the final part of the song.

With sparkling eyes Paganini shouted, “Paganini with one string!”

He put his violin on his chin and began to play the final part of the song beautifully. The audience was shocked and amazed at this incident.

Something made me think about this story, I thought as I looked at the two mice fighting over food in a dark hallway. I thought while looking at the blind beggar with a scab all over. I thought as I watched a woman cry on a park bench for no reason (or perhaps for a reason, but only she understood?), I also thought as I looked at the lighthouse and tried to understand its solitude.

I'm thinking about living. Life is filled with problems, worries, disappointments and all the bad things. Shouldn't life be full of poetry? Poetry promises nothing but something dripping from the mouth like honey? Like something flowing without a burden.

Without burden? And how many of us go through life with a burden?

Maybe I was thinking too much about the compensated load on the three broken strings. Though I still have one string left and can still be used as a handle.

I was now contemplating while looking at the rain falling from the roof forming a black puddle across there. I remember my only remaining string. There's no other choice.

There is only one string, so I play it beautifully.