I’m walking outside, ‘cause I wanted to breathe some fresh air. But it’s not fresh. I live in a city of concrete and cigarettes so when I breathe, there’s just a pungent smell of burnt fuel, tobacco and sewerage. I light my own cigarette, because why not, and watch the world around me.
There’s an angel next to me, desperate, eyes full of tears, and lungs full of silent screams. He wants to save the little bug in his hand, but he can’t. It doesn’t have wings anymore and without them it can’t survive. The only kind thing you can do to help it, is to kill it. But angels can’t kill, they’re not murderers, no. They were not made to have blood on their hands. Because of that, he is powerless. So, he just watches it, waiting for its slow and painful death to come, like with the rest of us.
It’s just like with the lady hiding behind the bushes. Her bottle of cheap whiskey is almost empty. With the circles under her eyes, old clothes and unhealthy, slim face, she looks almost like a junkie. She takes one last sip from the bottle and then throws it away suddenly smiling. I look over my shoulder to see who she’s smiling at. There’s a little boy running towards her with open arms shouting: “Mommy, mommy, the training was great!” Ready to receive a big hug. Wow she has a child. She stands up and hugs him, but there are no words coming out of her mouth. Her son is passionately talking to her, but I can’t hear what he’s saying because they’re leaving now.
I toss away what’s left from my cigarette, pull my black hoodie closer and follow them.
Squares and rectangles are spreading around me, and I see tons of different shades of gray and brown everywhere I look. But then green hits my eyes. A serrated leaves with five pointed ovals of varying lengths. A famous combination of three letters – CBD. Store full of green happiness. I decide not to follow them inside, so I just keep walking. There is a very weird variation of companies and stores in this street. There is a restaurant called “At the dead man’s” but I can hear a lot of laughter coming from inside. I peek in through a window and see people full of life veiled in the colors of dreams and smiles. What a nice paradox.
There’s a shop with guns next to it. Little bit dangerous, but kind of funny at the same time. I see a blue writing on the wall that says: “Shoot selfies not animals.” and I can’t help it, so I burst out laughing. People are looking at me with shock ‘cause they forget about watching the background when their focus is on me, so they don’t notice the dog pissing right under the blue writing. But other than that dog, there’s nothing funny about this street. Even though the sun is shining, this street is covered with darkness and gray fog.
A few doors away you can find a bank, and on its window you can see an ad asking you “Money or life?” Like you can live a great life with dreams becoming your reality without money. I mean come on, everybody who says that money doesn’t buy happiness is lying. There are things you can’t buy with money, but happiness is definitely not one of them. Money can buy you more things than you can think of no matter how meaningless they would be, if humans wouldn’t give it its power and value.
For a few minutes, I just stand there imagining how I’m robbing it. When I come back to the real world full of geometry and dust, I notice the woman from the park walking on the other side of the street not just with her son, but also with some tall guy. He gives off the same vibe as she does. What would their life look like, if they were rich? Maybe they once were. Doesn’t seem like it though.
When they stop before the subway, I realize that I’ve been following them again. I don’t want them to notice me, so I stopped too and light up another cigarette. The woman is talking now. It looks like she’s explaining something to the little boy, and when she is done with her speech, both adults turn away from the boy and disappear inside of the subway. The little blonde boy is waiting with patience. I sit on dirty stairs a few meters away, watching him. I finish my cigarette. Then another one. The boy decides to sit on a curb. I light up another cigarette. And another one. And another, when it suddenly hits me. His parents are not coming back. It’s getting dark and cold, just like their feelings did. He’s losing his hope too. After a few minutes, his innocent eyes meet mine. I hold his stare for one long minute. I am not a good person. What could I do anyways? When I finally break our eye contact, I stand up, lighting my last cigarette and start walking away.
But he decides to follow me.
Vanessa Bertelmannová
