On a decadent side road, near a badly costructed road, there was a man. The lights of the light bulbs only partially showed his face, nearly completely hide by his hat and jacket. He continued to walk irregulary, now running, now walking, not only doing a few steps a minute. His whole body seemed possesed by some kind of energy that made all of it tremble.

Another man was crossing the road, long and wide was his face, two big eyes, a mouth, but no features besides this. Once he saw that man he changed crossroad, so much fear had of that strange figure.

The night was dark and with tints of yellow, some butterfly and [lucciole] were playing around a bulb. He stopped at one of them and, with a light movement, catched a butterfly. It had no colours nor motifes, exactly like the buildings and the night sky.

Long after having passed that sidewalk and having entered the heart of the city he stopped at bus stop. Many men were there, all dressed of black, all with the same big eyes, all with the same distorted mouth and all without distincting features. The bus lights were so intense to blind people and cast of a bit of light in the darkness. After having entered the bus he looked around, everyone was staring in the void, watching nothing in particular. When the [controllore] arrived, a strong and robust man whose face was well hidden behind his cap, no one even moved his face to look at him. Like macchines executing a pre-programmed movement, they gave the ticket to him.

Having exited the bus he entered a big palace, with lots of lights. Two people were smoking outside the maind door while chit chatting about nothing in particular. Having entered the palace there was a great fuss and noise, something was happening, they were laughs and screams. Once the door of his appartment was close all sounds from outside were cast away. He removed his jacket and clothes placcing them in the closet and then procedded to pick a sleeve, a book and sit on his favourite armchair. All noises of the world became null when he readed.

The sound of something being baked could be heard from the kitchen. A man, no more than thirty-five, with slight red hairs and a scar on his face looked at the figure on the armchair and said, more than asked: “The same as yesterday?”

“The same as yesterday.”

“You can’t continue this way, no one can’t.”

He looked at him with a tired angry eyes “what else I am suppose to do?”

“Find an easy and comfor-”

“They don’t exist. It’s a myth, jobs take time and energy and risk, three things which I am not willing to sacrifice.”

“You are right…” he said in a low tone of voice “but maybe” he lowered even more his voice “maybe” at this point it was unheardable “you could try to fit.”

He didn’t heard him, or if he heard him he didn’t payed attention to him.

Dinner was very silent, more than usual. Across the table were letters and papers of various sizes.

“270 plus 60 is...damn! We have to do another cut” said the book man.

“Cut on what? We are practically living an ascetic life at this point.” replied the red haired.

“There must be something that we can cut…”

When dinner ended both went in bed reading. But today their minds were elsewere.

“Anthony” the red haired brother said “do you ever think about this study?”

Anthony without turning or stopping reading replied “what you mean?”

“No. No nothing.” Then closed his book and laid in bed.

But Anthony knew full well the meaning of that strange ill expressed phrase.

……

Light never reached the city nor his surronding, everything had this strange grey, obscure and decadent look about it. Nearly as if the sun refused to gave his light to such a madness of city. In the park, watching a few of the remaining birds fly, was Anthony, deeply immersed in though.

“Dad always brough us here, mom always buyed us nice icecreams. The sun was high in the sky back then, shrining like... like the sun should shrine…and I was there playing with the other kids...happy and joyfull…” he though to himself “it was there that I trowed a stick to that squit, I didn’t though of hitting him but I did. Dad was so mad at me for having hurted an animal.” he paused “happy times, happy…” he looked around and realize that he was alone there. And that it was probable the time to move on.

He entered a gate, the gatekeeper saluted him and he saluted back. He walked for a few dozens of meters before stopping, this was the place, this was were both his father and mother remnants resided.

“Do you ever think about this study?” he remember the phrase of his brother, he knew what that phrase meant “Do you ever think about what drives us? Why we study? Why we don’t conform to the mass?” he knew the answer looking at those remnants. Their fathers wasn’t the stablest of people, he was very neurotic, angry and emotional. He threaded them harshly and coldly, ignoring them most of the time.One day when they were only childs, all the sudden, he passed away. A car accident they were told. Shortly after the mental conditions of their mother started worsening, little by little. When they were fourteen she was admitted to a mental hygiene istitute, were he died some months after. “An illness” they said. “Beatings” the autopsy said. And so the two of them were left alone and climbed to everything that could make sense of their condition.

To liberate themself from fate strings, to understand the world, to not be played by it… and yet watching those two graves he though to himself “why not enjoy the time that I have here?”

“Why?”

“Why!”

He looked at the graves again and saw the answer.

“Death will come no matter what. No matter what you do. So strive and life heroically, so that it will not be proud to take your life!”