A little more thought

A very old man sat in the armchair staring at the evening. He was so old he could have died and yet not known. I went and sat besides him on a stool. And I suddenly felt like telling him everything. For once in my life I felt like pouring my heart out and crying. His face wrinkled and impassive he just looked at me. After you have lived every bit of of your life and are waiting to cease you don't need words. Words, the thoughts behind them, they seem like far-away leisures. I had tried so hard for so long to understand. He seemed distant. Some men experience a lot. Some experience little but that little has a far greater impact. You feel more from little, you learn more. I closed my eyes, they felt heavy. It would rain that night and he would shiver. His house was older than him. Did I ever lie to myself? No, I never did that. But maybe I couldn't see the truth for a long time. It took me time and reflection, and suddenly one day god knows what the reason, I saw a little. The old man was looking at me smiling slightly.

"I get tired of waiting." He spoke in a voice I seemed to have heard long back. "Those women in the village, they will start singing." I had heard the women sing late in the evening. I carried my bitterness around, they were singing now. For some more time I waited with him. Then I left. One day when I am very old, I will end up like that, desolate.