Whispers of History: A Journey through Silent Streets and Soulful Sadness

When I think of the history it’s hard to understand how peaceful these quiet streets among these old but up kept buildings are. There’s silence that’s broken once in a while by the hoofs of horses pulling carriages with their cargo of mesmerized tourists. The drivers pointing out quietly one historical building or another.

I think of my own sadness which at this point in my life seems to be one of my oldest companions. Never surprising me but still misunderstood. I am content and sad at the same time.

A cop on a bike stands guard outside some embassy, his gaze catching mine until it’s broken by the growing distance. A man puts his two small dogs into the back seat of his SUV, locks the doors and heads over to the Sushi place.

In the distance I hear a fire truck racing to some emergency. Its signature siren unmistakable. Fire, car accident, suicide in the subway, kitten stuck in a tree. So many emergencies in a big city.

But what of sadness? Sadness that the world is not as good as I hoped. That even in my ever present suspicion I am still naive. That even when I know that loads of shit is coming, I still hope that it might not. That I’m not alive today because my ancestors were gentle sweethearts but rather because of their tempers and ambitions.

Evil is an unpopular word and not to be used by the enlightened but rather by the masses of uneducated who still believe in the fairytale of an omnipotent and omnipresent God. But what if I told you that evil is not over the mountain and out of sight but among us and within us at all times. A constant battle between Elves and Orcs unseen to the eye of a mere human.

It’s not the dark woods that should concern you but your basement. Not the borders but the road outside of your window. And not the wild beasts with their fangs but the civilized honorary ones with open palms.

And love you’ll only know what it is once you’ve found it but until then you’ll think you’ve found it many times. So how can you blame yourself for loving what you did not actually love?

We live in a world of weakness where many survive on account of others. Like parasites they latch themselves onto you while claiming love, friendship, family and authority. And you feel you have little choice but to at least entertain some of these parasites, for it’s rude to offend. But what master of his soul is concerned about rudeness and endless charity?

The predator cannot double as prey and therefore doesn’t have the option to flee but only to fight. If you don’t fight they’ll tread on you. If you do fight you won’t sleep at night. There’s always a price.

But like this city was built to last forever so was man built to last a lifetime. All the sorrows to feed the muscles of the soul. What won’t kill you will only make you stronger and very little can kill you. Especially if you don’t let them.

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