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All for a beer

Stories and News No. 1104

Too bad about that girl, I told myself coming home.
She was not just cute, but also had a deep and smart look.
A beautiful voice too, which is not obvious.
We were chatting so well, there in the square, with all the favorable ingredients. A lovely, sunny not too hot day that was going to end peacefully, work behind and all the time in my hands.
But then... then she pulls out her pamphlets and the magic instantly ends.
I do not think she wanted to speak only for that, but her gesture inevitably froze the moment’s spontaneity.
It's important, she explains, Amnesty International is doing things to help the world’s last ones, and contributions from people like you are vital, she adds.
I repeat, if I think about it even now with a cold mind, I'm almost certain we could continue the mutual acquaintance, but her sudden script’s change, even if with noble intentions, forced me to immediately close our common story.
I'm sorry, I told her before turning around and leaving, but I don’t trust these good-looking NGOs who get rich on our shoulders by exploiting the humanity’s problems.
Once at home I am frustrated and disoriented.
I have no regrets about what I said, it is clear, but it was really nice to chat with that girl and I feel I still lost something.
At that moment I remember the words of my younger brother, Steven, who works as a doctor in Africa with one of those “fake humanitarian” associations, as I used to call them, who often reproaches me of remaining too anchored to the same habits: if you don’t try other roads, what right you have to talk about their destinations?
The usual philosopher, the doc, but I miss him.
How many times we went to the cinema together. We are different, we immensely are, but the passion for the seventh art has always united us and a lot.
So I want to see a good movie, the best way to forget the girl.
I am going to look for something good on streaming, when I feel the inevitable appetite, given the time.
I do not want to cook and I decide to please the little brother.
Okay, Stevie, I say as if he were still at home with me, where he lived for four years before he left.
New roads, as you suggest. Enough with the usual pizza. What do you think of Japanese food? Those who keep silent, they must agree, I tell myself, a foregone conclusion for those who live alone.
I call the first take away restaurant I find and after ordering a little haphazard the guy asks me what I want to drink.
I do not understand anything of what he says and I choose just as random.
Go for Kirin Beer!

Seen, little brother? I have no problem to change, don’t you think? Once again, the silence approves, and while I'm looking for the movie, that U2 song starts to sound, Walk On.
It's also my cell phone
's ringtone, for that matter.
I answer, it's mom, she reminds me that on the weekend is Dad’s birthday, I assure I had certainly not forgotten, but it is a lie.
I say too many lies to that woman, I know, but it's the only way I've found to look better than I am. And my mother has to see me better, especially since I went to live alone.
I resume to plumb the list and here I see The Lady, a Luc Besson’s film dedicated to Aung San Suu Kyi.
What a coincidence, I tell myself, even my ringtone’s song was written for her.
So I entrust myself to destiny and I choose Besson's movie, partly because another Steven’s advice comes back to me, accusing me of control obsession: every now and then you should let life combine the dots for you.
After a few minutes from the beginning of the film, thinking back to Aung San Suu Kyi and all the support she received, I dwell on how contradictory history is, given the crimes committed by its government against the Rohingya refugees.
I'm good not to trust others, then, right? That's why the better thing I should do is to trust only myself.
At that moment, I realize I'm thirsty.
Heck, I cannot wait to taste this Kirin beer.
I resume watching the film, which is not bad, a bit 'slow, but it is not bad at all.
Someone rings at the door, finally I can eat.
I pause the movie, take the food, pay the bellboy and go back to the living room.
I arrange dinner on the table, but first of all I open my drink.
Kirin beer, I hope it's good.
I sip, I take the film, and I sip again.
She got the Nobel prize too, I tell myself, thinking back to the refugees...
After all, I believe it is one of the trademarks of this early century. Also because of the extraordinary hyper-connection that binds us all, it is much easier to know better others’ life, public and private it is.
Take that actor, Kevin Spacey, world famous star, also known for his humanitarian efforts, before ending up in disgrace.
The unsuspected celebrities...
Wait, what was that movie’s name where he also got the Oscar?
Steve, you should know this immediately, you've always had a better memory with the titles...
Yes, The Usual suspects!
In the meantime I still swallow my Japanese drink, undisputed proof that I have no problems with new things.
I remember the ending of that movie with Spacey, where you understand everything at the end and it turns out his character was telling what was before our eyes.
Everything is connected, we are all related, I find myself reflecting.
Like the moral from that other great movie, Babel.
At that moment, at that precise moment, I almost risk a heart attack and I turn the bottle over.
Kirin beer...
Produced by the Japanese company that in these days it has been discovered to finance the army responsible for the violence and the abuses on refugees through its Burmese subsidiary.
Exactly what that naive girl of today told me about...

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