I was waiting for the bus this morning – god knows who invented the idea that public transports are on time in the U.K.. I was waiting and I saw a kid sitting right next to me. He looked nervous, as if something was bugging him from within. He suddenly stood up, turned around and walked a few steps, kneeled down and started petting a dog. After a while he stood up again and looked at the man in old clothes behind the dog. He started looking for something in his backpack and took the homemade sandwich and handed it to the old man in old clothes. He turned around and sat on the bench again. All of this in silence. It was such a perfect scene. I was hypnotised, as if it was my first trip to the circus. Nobody seemed to pay attention, nobody bothered to leave their Starbucks cappuccino and give a penny to that stranger, nobody seemed to listen to the accuracy of that moment. But I kept watching, my eyes being trapped in that picture as if it was a spider web. When the kid went away, there wasn’t a single fraction of uncertainty, not a second thought in the old man looking at the sandwich and give it to his dog – no matter the hunger, the cold or the uncomfort of filthy clothes and improvisation of sleeping on the asphalt. It looked like the natural plot of a movie, as if he was following a script, no hesitation in his movements.
As I was standing there I realised how spoiled we can sound, how lucky we are to have bodies allowing us to run and warm sheets to wrap our cold feet in, collections of ambitions and gloves to keep the wind away. And I do realise this sounds more like some Buddhist utopia where people of all shapes and colours happily coexist with mother nature and poisonous animals and plants with spines and all sorts of meteorology. But from time to time all we need is a slap, something to break our bubble of eternal crave for something deeper, for something more and just get our feet back to the ground, little importance if this is the picture of a hungry old man in old clothes renouncing to a homemade sandwich to feed his dog or a trip to Africa and all other tropical utopian places where starving people sing off-key with the crystal waters and mojitos.
So here’s a task – and I feel entitled to assign one as my horoscope does that too. Instead of staring at your reflection and point out all your stupid flaws, instead of complaining about the weather and about your days not flowing smooth, just breathe, let go of all the shit that’s been rotting in your forehead and just be. There’s no better gift you can give yourself this Valentine’s Day. And let’s be honest, everyone hates Valentine’s Day.