Stories and News No. 954
In Manila, a fire destroyed 15000 homes of the shanty town. Families were forced to scour the remains of their makeshift homes in search of their belongings while the fires raged out of control, causing many injuries.
These unfortunate events, among already born troubled lives, compose a sadly notorious background. However, the small story of who alone, in the middle of the night did not give up and continues to fight, it’s far less obvious than it seems...
Me against the fire.
Alone, covered with rags, standing still.
Fighting the fire.
I might look ridiculous to you, strictly behind me.
So that I could listen your voice.
But not seeing your eyes.
Above all, avoiding you could see mine.
Me alone against fire, with one bucket of water, which in a few seconds will become one of the many empty containers in my difficult existence.
As the wallet, closet and drawers, as an imaginary bank account and the missing pages in my farewell to the global storytelling.
Read as well as what remains to be written.
I should look like a fool to you, lost in total mercy of an unacceptable madness nowadays. Because the modern crazy guy lights a fire, he’s not trying to extinguish it, right?
But I'm here, standing against it.
While all I had is burning.
While all I have is the strength of the arms holding the bucket.
And despite my only weapon will shortly end, the best advice I got from life, probably the only one, is intact: if you have a bucket and you can fill it, the fire will always be afraid of you.
That's why I'm here, now.
Alone against the blunt monster that devours forms and time.
I know, I might seems naive to you, but believe me, for once.
Believe me at least now, while I’m fighting my enemy.
It’s incredibly strong and roars with equal vehemence, but it’s not able to steal anything but the ways which things are drawn with and every second we spent in order to know and learn to love them.
If it didn’t eat ourselves, that’s clear.
The fire will never have our memories.
The fire will never affect what binds us one another.
Because the fire is even more alone than us and only destroying it finds a meaning to its existence.
This is why I am not afraid to face it.
Maybe I can understand it better than anyone else.
Alone against it, I hardly win.
Nevertheless, tonight I'm here and you may still find me in the same place, after the next dark, with flames everywhere.
Until I’ll write.
Because against the fire.
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