As I continue my journey to nowhere I come across a dame and a gentleman seated by the riverbank and stop in my tracks, hoping to discover something interesting about the ways of the world.
The evening breeze is gentle with speckled pigeons perched on the lush greens, chirping out to their fledglings and perhaps, prospective mates. The tranquillity of the flowing river combined with the flapping trees conspire to morph into a beautiful melody in my ears, as though the universe is revealing to me an intimate secret in a language privy only to the daintiest of human hearts.
The beautiful thing is that these humans do not, cannot know that someone is watching them. They cannot see me as I observe their puny lives, nor can they hear the sound of my footsteps as I walk among the trees because I am not like them, not like you who are reading this story. I am human yes, but invisible to the world as you know it.
I must advise you not to bother yourself with who I am, you should focus instead on this:
I thought they were lovers.
You would too if you saw the way their hands were closely knitted together like twins joined at birth, if you heard her carefree laughter at a joke of his that wasn’t remotely funny, and if you took a glance at his eyes; those big, brown eyes that carried a burning gaze towards her that could break the sharpest of Cupid’s arrows, your imagination would surely lead you in that direction. Yes, I thought they were lovers after I heard her ask out of the blue,
“How do you want to go out?”
I doubt she knows the depth of her question, but she repeats it,
“How would you love to leave this beautiful mess called Earth?”
He pauses for a moment and smiles, as though he has been waiting all his life for this moment. His eyes are burning brighter, carrying an uncanny conviction and an unnerving sense of peace. In that fleeting moment, I know without a doubt that he has pondered on this question not once, not twice, but over and over again. He has imagined the possibilities so much that the question fails to surprise him anymore.
He picks up a rock, flips it out into the river, and responds in a tone just loud enough for,
“Alone, at peace.”
“I would like to go out as the sun makes its final performance, savouring for one last time, the enthralling view of the great golden ball descending in a haze of pink and gold and blue, and breathing my last as the light gives way to the night”.
Upon the utterance of night I watch time grind to a halt, freezing the view in place and leaving the two humans locked in their reverie, a wonderstruck look plastered on their faces for eternity. Unfortunately, this beauty I can watch no more, as my master beckons unto me to continue my journey lest I get swept up into a tide of raging torrents.
Perhaps they were indeed lovers, or what they shared was something more, something too sacred to be named, I cannot tell you, dear reader, neither can I tell you anymore except a little of who I am.
You can call me THE FLANEUR.
I am a wanderer, a meanderer, an invisible human moving from place to place with no place to lay his head, some might say a ghost in a shell. I am an adventurer. I come to see the world in all its glory, beauty and pain, and I tell stories of my adventures as they come. But most importantly, I am on a journey to nowhere, walking to wherever the winds of time carry my feet, the past, the present and the ever-changing future.
I must leave you here dear reader, for my adventures must continue and time is little. Till we meet again!
P.S.: This is the first of a new story series “Adventures of the Flaneur”. Like, share and of course,
Ciao!