An Inconsequential Man

It was autumn. From far away I could hear her voice.  It sounded so far away.  I could not guess from where it was coming.  I saw a tall wall and a line of trees.  They were all naked with no leaves.  It was so violently windy that I had to run to one of them for protection.  The leaves of those unfamiliar trees were lying on the ground.  Most of them were yellow.

My mouth was dry; I was searching for a tap in the park for water to drink.  The sky was full of clouds.  I wished that it were not so, because I was afraid of the rain which always brought bad memories to my mind.  I had enough of such recollections.

My hands looked yellow, and my fingernails were very long.  I was neglecting myself.  I did not bother to cut the nails or to even wash the hands.

I recall telling myself ‘What for?  Who would care if I’m alive or not?’

In that corner of that busy street I was watching all the well-dressed people in cafes and restaurants.  Some of them were laughing, others were arguing, and a few just stared at each other.  It was so strange to look inside of those comfortable places.

I remember that I saw this woman who wore big lipstick on her lips.  She was fiercely arguing with a man.  I guess he was her partner.  I also noticed a table in the middle of the café where there were other men and women.  They were kissing each other without looking at each other.  I thought they were making a movie.  They looked like superstars acting in American films.

The faces all were serine.  They all wore clean clothes. I was embarrassed of my shape and disheveled hair.  I had not had a wash, as I said, for a long time.  I guessed that most of people there were locals.  I was surprised that they did not smile.  On that particular day, I sensed as if all of those people had new haircuts that made them look glamorous.

My thinking patterns did not help.  I might have lost my logic of having a clear power of observation.  I let myself go into what was coming to me and out of me.  I thought that was perhaps the best way to test the new places: study them intuitively and without too much restraint.  Just be in the crowd and observe.

I still to this day remember the smell of men’s sensational after-shaves.  I used to pretend that I wore one too.  This somewhat gave me the illusion that I was one of them.  I also hoped that beautiful women would be attracted to me, but in reality I knew that I was dreaming.  The sky was limpid, and I could not bear it.  I needed inspiration to go on, I wanted to think logically.  In the mist of all this, as strangely as it could happen, the voice of a kind woman gave me such strength, but this voice was too far away to be accessible.  I imagined the blueness of the sky behind the black could make it clear to me that it was blue and left that image there in my mind.  I did not want the rain.  I hoped that the clouds would go away.

Now that I think about it, I realize how simplistic my thoughts must have been.  What could I do?  The world that I knew was as usual so confusing to me.  My thoughts were constantly formless, just like the poetry I used to read.  I have been thinking to myself how did ancient people who did not have the luxury of the café life, like the people who I now witnessed, deal with their formless thoughts.  What was their experience of thinking?  Did they discuss the nature of words they spoke?  Of course, I did not want to think of Plato who always talked about the form.

I did not expect any answer.  Who was I to hope for one?  Somewhere in the back of my mind I heard that I did not have the right to ask questions.  The clouds were standing still in the sky.  I was in this empty space. I was all alone, and I could see two different worlds in my mind:  first, the ancients and, second, the moderns.  Both were gliding in their own time and space.  I wondered where did I belong in this asymmetry?  I had this immense desire to know them both.  Even though I was awake and walking, I allowed myself to enter into a dream, which belonged to the far away times as well as to the present times.

The rain had begun, and I was walking under it.  My clothes were all wet, and I hated it.  I felt like a fool as I trod stupidly on the streets without any objective.  Life was sterile, and I was in it.  I was taken from here to there without any consequences.  I was irrelevant, a man without any result.  I did not even have the words to tell my story, a mute observer of others’ and my own tragicomic existence.  A gentle breeze caressed my face.  I felt happy, felt that the rain was going to stop.  That was the greatest single moment of that day for me.  I felt this inside of myself.  That was the positive distraction I wanted.

It was in such a moment and in such a mood that I felt the world in which I was living was totally closed down to me.  The tall wall in front of me was the only gate I had to think of the past. The ancient buildings, which were staring at me, reminded me of my ignorance of the history of the city.  They forced me to admit to this ignorance.  I remember embarrassingly saying  ‘Look, I’m sorry I don’t know much about you.’  Of course, the city did not answer back.  Do you think I’m a fool to say that it did?  I might have been insignificant but it did not mean that I had lost my total grasp of reality.

I heard the voice of the woman calling ‘I love you.’  I wanted her to be just next to me.  It was very important to learn about who she was, but she was not there in flesh, and I simply gave up.  What was the point to agonize over something that was not there?  The eternal city was dragging me everywhere.  That was enough.  I easily gave in to its will for I felt that I had no other choice.

In my life’s peculiar pace I kept as resilient as I could.  I passed by the things, and whether they were significant or not, it did not matter.  I saw all objects around me and in a slow manner I took endless mental pictures in order to keep my mind occupied.  I also hoped that in the future if I was going to be lucky and the language would permit me to express myself with words, better then I would sit and write my thoughts on the paper without confusing people with my fragmentary nature of telling things.  I think nurturing these thoughts at that stage help me to go on slowly.  The rain stopped, the city was cold; I did not have much to do except wonder.  It helped me enormously.  It kept me focused.

In the course of my wondering I saw a huge old building, which was covered by huge scaffolds for reconstruction.  As I watched it I suddenly had a thought about asking myself if I could stay the night in the place.  Nobody was there to force me out.  I stood in front of it for a few minutes, but then I changed my mind.  I continued my walk into the night.

Of course I was annoyed by the circumstance in which I found myself.  There were some unique moments when I believed that I was going to have a better day.  This feeling used to elate me, it kept me going on during the nights, and then as soon as the sun would rise I would again find the force of the day obliging me to think that I had to meet a world that was full of people who were largely entangled in themselves.  Their lives were predictable and did not bother with the rest.  Despite of all the negative things around me I was resigned to the fact that life was beautiful, and I did not care that the world was not generous to me.

I did not know what all these things meant for an insignificant person like me.  I wondered if others who looked like me had the same way of thinking as I did.  Did they believe that they were misunderstood too?  I had these thoughts in order to distract myself from the predicament in which I found myself.  It had been a long time since I ceased to think about those things, but somewhere in some part of my mind the dormant things were still nesting, and they accidentally from time to time presented themselves to me, to remind me of something. They were like sparks, and when they arrived, they were very demanding to force me to remember.

That night in the middle of all those events and emotions, I also saw a beautiful and extremely elegant woman who was wearing a red hamlet.  She sat on a brand new Vespa motorbike.  Next to her was a meticulously clean white dog.  Surprised to find this scene in the core of my dilemmas, I stopped and fixed my gaze upon them.  For some very strange reason I suddenly had this feeling that I wished that I were that dog.  It was strange and sudden feeling.  I did not experience envy or anger towards them.  On the contrary, I felt happy for the dog. I did not want to have the luxurious life they had, but I just wished to be it.

It was getting late into the night.  The city was still busy, and I was still observing things.  The clouds were disappearing from the sky.  In a peculiar way I looked at the old building, which I saw a few minutes before, and it seemed happier.  The naked trees were comfortably standing there.  The sky was opening, too.  The clouds had finally decided to leave and generously began to offer us a blue sky full of stars.  The bright autumnal breeze was as kind as you could imagine.  People in a matter of seconds looked more human, and most of them were smiling at each other.  They all appeared brighter in the heart of that night.

No, I was not imagining these things.  I saw them all.  All of them were happening in fragmentations.  Witnessing all these new things, I made up my mind and decided to enter the derelict old building to stay the night under its roof.  I had had a busy day.  I was content with the weather, the sky, the people, and the city.

This mood for good reason changed my desire to be that dog.  In this state of mind I told myself that ‘I just want to be left alone. A dog can’t ask to be left alone.’  I was alone but free. That night, as I recall, turned out to be an interesting one, and I have to admit that I had an exquisite sleep in that old building.

And here I am now, looking at my soundings, as I ask myself ‘What else did an insignificant man like me want after having all these things?’  It might sound strange to you, but my answer is nothing.  I have to admit this is what I felt that night under the roof of that old building.

(1995) M. Aidani