I look around me; wheels that constantly move on the gray asphalt, to remind us of the never-ending “journey” of time. People are coming and going – who knows where to and how many times they have made this journey. Buses, always with their route marked, pass the same traffic lights, the same stops, the same crosswalks. They are all stuck in a rhythm that we do not always like, nor is it always convenient for us. But this is it, what can we do? We make do with what we have.
We lull ourselves into a phrase that becomes a way of life, not necessarily referring to the bus or our daily walk. It leads instead to “bigger” things, more humane, more deeply rooted in our thoughts. So much so, that we have forgotten about them and do not seem to care much once the news is hidden behind the next one that appears on our screen.
I have nothing to write, I have nothing to write about are two phrases that constantly run through my head. The world moves on. There are things happening out there every day; sometimes they shock the whole country, sometimes they go unnoticed, sometimes they bore us. There are moments that leave us breathless, moments when we do not know how to put the words together to make a sentence. In a single day, the world seems to wander from rock rhythms to classical and romantic melodies, merely by watching the news. However, we do not seem to mind this abrupt change in “music”, at least not for long. It is as if we are getting used to it. As if we live in repetition.
Current events and people’s daily lives are the reason I write these words. And yet, my words come to an end somewhere and I do not find a way to continue. The words seem small and weak and all the same. Like a 90’s cassette tape that is stuck, but without playing the same tune. It “sticks” to people’s values and relationships, with a different story each time, again shocking the whole country in that same way. Sometimes, I think we are a nation “doomed” to live over and over again in our mistakes because we have a habit of forgetting them and being forgotten﮲ as quickly as we learned to change TV channels – even if we do not use our TV much anymore.
Tomorrow will be a new day. Once it dawns, everything will reset, and we will start all over again as if yesterday never happened. After all, it is not convenient for us to suddenly change our route. We are used to it. We no longer even notice it. It is just enough for us to know where it will lead us. But even there, just before dawn, is this perpetual repetition good enough for us?
A short but authentic text. Not at all idealistic or romantic. A little far from me, but also very close to me, trying to escape from my everyday life. Because if the words do not slip out, how will the tape ever slip out?
