Written by: Luca Varga
Walking in the jungle of concrete: everything noisy, yet quiet, moving, still dead, monotous grey. Like a machine that works every day. Senseless, not breathing, nor understanding. Walking in the jungle of concrete. Among empty, sad conglomerate. The crowd only functions as gear wheel, that operate This enormous machine. I stop for a moment. Not anybody recognizing me, I look around listening carefully. Nothing lives… nothing intends to live. Then I catch a gimpse of something green. It’s a small tree in the middle of the street. Standing alone, the only living, so paceful, beautiful and shining. Emerald green leafs of life trembling lonely but brave, never abandonding the idea of living. It stands there unmoving, still sensing. Living more than this jungle of concrete. Living more than anybody concrete. The only color, life I have long seen, long ago forgotten int he past, far been. |