Somewhere far, far away in a world lying within our dimension and space-time, lived an old man. During a midlife crisis, his cottage became a work of art for him. He painted it all green, inside and out, top and bottom... It stood off the main road that led to the town, which was a few hundred meters away. As a result, no one visited him often, and he preferred to go hunting in the nearby forest rather than to the bustling marketplace. There were more reasons why no one actually visited him, but to understand it, you have to know the whole convoluted story.
"Old fool," the residents said to each other, because they couldn't imagine why anyone would paint their house at all, and they certainly couldn't imagine why it would be such an ugly green. This was the majority of the people living in and around the town at the time. They were perfectly content with their wooden, battered, often mud-stained, and generally ugly houses. The old fool, however, as they called our good old man, was a great visionary, an individualist who certainly didn't care what others thought of him. It's not just that he painted his house once and that was it, and became someone extraordinary. He also demonstrated great perseverance, having to renovate his creation at least once a week. Imagine the amount of work he put into maintaining the splendor of his invention.
The worst was when a carriage or some lunatics on horseback passed by on the road, which was too close. Besides, this was a minor issue compared to another problem: the children, who quickly learned from their parents the art of mocking or despising him. It wasn't even about the mockery and obnoxious screams, because the children took their senseless cruelty even further. They began to undo his hard work by throwing everything at the walls, including tomatoes, all sorts of fruit, stones, and even dead animals. As if that weren't enough, they drew "booze smears" and... well, the list could go on, because the children's ingenuity seemed endless. All of this drove our hero into a rage, which gave him even more strength to renew his work. However, as you probably know, human envy knows no bounds. And so the adults' turn began. It was the final move...
Hundreds of burning torches emitting the scent of kerosene illuminated the night, and their owners confidently walked towards the cottage of the well-known visionary. He, however, was fast asleep at that very moment, dreaming of his former enemies painting their houses green with a smile on their faces, of his invention, along with himself, being accepted by the local community, of becoming something of a hero... He dreamed of success with a capital S.
A hail of torches rained down on the walls, on the ground covered with thick grass, and inside the building. In a matter of minutes, as tongues of flame devoured everything, this history became a thing of the past. The only things left to the participants of this murder until their deaths were remorse.
Yes, this is the end of this fairy tale that was born one beautiful winter morning, and its moral that I created is:
Green is always the color of hope,
but you cannot afford
only hope.
Brak komentarzy:
Prześlij komentarz