I have woken up. I have overslept every single appointment, but I don’t care. I feel fresh and strong as ever – but as lazy as my consciousness would have never allowed me. I do not listen to my consciousness – I see the sun. The sun is everything to me. Without it, I would not have woken up. The sun is everywhere – it has turned into a golden river, and my feet are drowning in it. I don’t know yet what ocean it is leading me to – but I will find out.
I follow the river of the sun – and the blue shadows on the sides of it look like coasts. They remind me of yesterday. Do I want to remember it? If I can – yes. I was walking across the same street – but it looked so different! I was soaking wet with rain, but enjoyed the feeling of blue puddles attacking my fragile shoes.
Right in front of me, there was another pedestrian. A young man with a red umbrella. I never envied him for having that umbrella. I just watched him. And remembered him better than it would be appropriate.
The colour of his umbrella changes from red to orange as soon as my memory clashes with the sun. Orange has occupied my brain, my heart and my eyes – I see it on the wall, on the trunk of a tree, among the flowers. Is it a way of not confessing how much I really think about the red umbrella, or, more honestly, its possessor?
I want to follow the sun. There, up to the bridge. But I know that I have to turn right and enter the restaurant behind the orange wall. Not only because I’m hungry, but because I hope (in vain) that right at this very moment he is hungry, too.