Summer. Ljubljana. Old Town.
I generally like finding myself alone. It is like being in a secret forest, full of mysteries and secret corners, strange sounds and creeping creatures. But then there are two types of loneliness: the one that delivers the joy of discovery inside your own self, and the other one, that only brings pain when the thoughts enter a no exit tunnel. It is in this particular state of mind that I met him. He was observing me standing there alone, surrounded by friends, people, strangers, whatever.. just human beings.
Minutes later, when we started a sort of conversation, joking and talking of nothing in particular, he said swiftly, with a voice that seemed more alive than I ever expected of him: “Hey, what do you think about quitting this silly party and going outside? Let’s have a stroll along the river!” It woke me up all of a sudden. I thought of the nights I found myself under the bridge, watching the cold deep water. The city seemed deserted and it kept no place for me. I was dark like the river, seeing nothing but a long way to follow, down to the ocean of nowhere..
He was telling me about his life, his wonderings from town to town. I began to think that he is even more miserable than me, searching for illusions, but after all.. he was like every single human on this planet. It is hard to accept that we are always alone before our destiny. Grow, study, be smart, fill your mind with intelligent thoughts, stroll around in bands, look for someone to have beside you, give birth to other individuals, get old, die in peace.. What else? Did I miss something? But either shedding down tears all naked in your bath room or laughing like a fool at a big party in the old town, you are there all by yourself, you, your soul, your ego or whatever you think you are, but it is only you.
When he looked so amazed at the river up 
from the bridge filled with pots of rose flowers, it all seemed pathetic to me. There was nothing to be happy about. Nothing left to admire. At least, for me. Even jumping from the bridge wouldn’t help neither. The bridge was quite low and the river – warm and slow. “I’d better go home”, I thought and was already browsing my mind for a reasonable excuse to leave, when he said:
- “This river seems to be so dark and muddy, don’t you ever think so?” I was not sure whether he was talking to me or to his own self. Well, I did think so, it was my own thought he was speaking out loud. I never could understand why people came to the bridge, taking pictures, smiling, it was all so stupid and silly of them.
- “But then, its only an illusion, because when the sky is clear the river reflects the stars above, the sun, the trees and the birds. All the beauty of the world can fit in it, as in a mirror. The beauty that can be seen only by the eye that wants to see. I love rivers, they remind me that I should always move and do something, but at the same time I shouldn’t forget about observing the things that I am passing by. Sometimes I help others see them too.”
I didn’t reply. The only thing I felt when I returned home that night was the shame, for all my dark, cynic thoughts. That night I wanted to be like a river, like a mirror, but I seemed to be just a piece of dark sunglass, lying on a dusted shelf..
like it!!