March, or rather, its twenty-first day. This day marks the beginning of the coming changes in our lives. After the long, lonely winter evenings, come long days and endless escapades with a vast number of friends and acquaintances. Perhaps somewhere among these new faces we will encounter a shadow of a memory from the past? A familiar face, long unseen, who might be able to illuminate and warm our numb hearts.
Spring brings longed-for hope, greater or lesser, but still hope. This day we so eagerly await. For a moment, a fleeting smile appears on our faces. And a kind of indefinable peace. We feel much better than before. Breathing is no longer so difficult. We no longer have to quickly and greedily draw air directly into our tortured lungs. On the contrary, we do so slowly and with a certain reserve.
Some might tell us that it's just an ordinary day, like any other day of the year. Let's not listen to him; he wants to deceive us, for he already dwells in the darkness of his own soul and avoids the sun like his fierce enemy. He lives in the darkness and never emerges into the light. However, on this day, young people from all schools take to the streets of the city to breathe fresh spring air for the first time. Traditionally, this day is also a day of dressing up. Anyone who is more daring has the chance to try their hand at wearing someone else's skin and other people's clothes. We can often dig out strange clothes in an old wardrobe.
The best place for observation is the city center. The very center. There stands a monument to some former activist, now completely forgotten. No one even remembers his name, though he was once elevated to pedestals. Only this decaying monument remains of him. Sitting on its edge, we have practically the entire city center in sight. We can see practically everyone passing by. Some of them look back at the people who, dressed up and smiling, are marching through the city in freedom marches. They watch and wonder why there are so many colorful, smiling people. Generally, the city is peaceful, and no one causes any trouble.
Only a slightly mocking smile appears on our faces, directed in that direction. Some people, so busy organizing the world around them, forget about the days, the few days, that bring a few spontaneous moments of joy to their lives. Worried and lost in their own thoughts, they forget about the important days in their lives. Such as this one, where a smile isn't a forced grimace, but a spontaneous and entirely voluntary act of will.
Beer often quenches thirst. And not just physical thirst. Lost in perpetual contemplation, we can no longer express a sincere and spontaneous smile. The expression on our faces is so unpleasant and off-putting. However, each subsequent sip brings us closer to the land of happiness. In reality, it's all our heads, or rather the brain within them, to blame. Through chemical reactions, it creates a strange sense of lightness and ease of life. All problems, worries, and sorrows disappear, and in their place, a sense of happiness and euphoria appears. It's so easy to succumb to this. You drink one beer, someone else offers you another, someone completely different, a third. It's much harder, however, to refuse. Someone suggests going out for a beer. Will you refuse? Will you be left alone again, feeling that, although you've gained something, you've lost something else?
No other day of the year offers so many new friendships or new acquaintances. Hundreds of people appear on the streets. Hundreds of new and completely unfamiliar faces. Some faces are strangely familiar, as if we've met them before, but when we try to remember where, they vanish into the fog of oblivion.
Suddenly, across the street, we spot a strangely familiar face, one with whom we once shared a bond. A strange feeling. We stare at it intently, wanting it to look at us and see that we're still alive and well. But it refuses to move at all. After a moment, we realize it probably already knows. It knows we're watching it, yet it doesn't want to look at us. How long has it been? A year, two, maybe a few years? And it all began on a day like today. When everyone was joyful, singing the song of their lives. Do we miss something so unreal and illusory? How many times can we fall? To rise and fall again? Our hand, extended to it, called for help. It tried to help us up. But after a while, it lost its patience. It was still too much for its limited strength. She's gone. What has she left behind? A few intoxicating nights no one needs anymore? Hundreds of tears alternately interspersed with laughter and sadness? Suddenly, we decide to approach her and simply speak to her. Ask questions we might have once known the answers to, but had forgotten by now. We jump up, but a moment later we sit back down. We remember that we've done something similar before, and it ended rather sadly and unpleasantly for us.
Beer often quenches thirst. Not just physical thirst. I quickly take a few long sips from a can. After a moment, the stabbing pain in my heart subsides. Someone asks for a sip, and I hand them the can without asking. A moment later, I look at the person I offered the beer to. Looking at them, I realize I wanted to meet that face today and exchange a few words.
"I have a few words for you." I think that's how we should start a conversation.
"Say what's on your mind." His speech was already starting to falter. The buzzing in his head was probably building quickly. I had to hurry.
"I hear you're a photographer. Any interesting shots? I'm also trying my hand at it a bit. Perhaps we could exchange experiences.
" "Why not? No problem. I try to capture some interesting shots. Not always with good results. It's difficult, after all.
" "Difficult, but possible. I'm mainly interested in shots that force reflection or contemplation. To look at such a photo and ponder it for a few brief moments.
Suddenly, I realized I was once again encouraging something we should avoid. Humanity has always harbored enormous contradictions within itself. Fire and water. Burning water and liquid fire. Like a riddle to which each of us seeks the answer. Who am I? In search of answers, we traverse deserts, oceans, and forests. We don't stay in any one place for long. Impatient with repeated failures, we move on. The question we constantly ask echoes in our heads. We can no longer silence it. We often can't sleep, spend sleepless nights, and fall asleep exhausted in the early morning, only to jump up and continue forward again. And so it goes, without a moment's respite. Always tired and increasingly exhausted. And the question we constantly seek an answer to should be formulated in a slightly different way. It should be: What am I?
In this constant rush, we forget about the most trivial things. About the smile that lights up our faces. About a fleeting conversation with someone we meet by chance. About frequent gatherings with close friends. Time passes much more carefree in their company. About a Sunday walk arm in arm with a loved one. And in this constant rush, we forget all this. We become increasingly cold stones. Without feeling or unnecessary emotion. Even ordinary conversation comes with difficulty. And in general, we have no desire for it. We silently dismiss the people approaching us, with a question that had just slipped our minds. Our posture becomes increasingly unstable. We lean against the decayed monument, with which we slowly merge, as if with a marble stone that has been there for decades, impervious to the onslaught of wind and rain. Steadfast and unwavering.
Someone observing us from across the street might get the impression that you and the monument are one.
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