The drifter

He walked, and walked, that was all, he walked.

To some he was a madman, to others a beggar, a drifter.

He never asked for anything. A friend of mine remarked: «He must be sick, he looks like a sleepwalker».

I decided to find out. I spent a while waiting for him, my only company the trilling of the birds. He was absent, as if he sensed something might happen.

Finally one day I went up to him: «Excuse me, sir, can I be of any help? I've been watching you and you cling to the earth as if searching in it for the energy to keep walking».

He looked around, there was no one there, he looked at me and said: «Did you call me sir? I'm only what's left of a man». Tears began rolling down his cheeks and some hung suspended on his eyelashes, unable to fall.

«Are you interested in my story?»

«Yes, of course.»

«I was happy, I had a beautiful companion, a 5-year-old daughter, we lacked for nothing, I was an architect and my home was a hymn to life. One day we left on vacation on the highway, I'd had a glass of wine at lunch, no more than that, we were happy, we were singing. I didn't see the cow in the middle of the road, they say it crossed, I don't know, you can imagine it yourself, I was left alone, I couldn't recover and I can't put a final stop to my pain».

In my heart fluttered a deep sorrow for that being who found no comfort and would not allow himself to nurse new hopes at the udder of life.

I asked myself: faced with losses that can't be repaired, how does one go on living? Each person has their own answer.