It was a Monday morning, the little man woke up to go to work. He was walking by the quay again, but this time it was different, as if the old pier he saw every day was more colorful, its color faded from the sun, not like the previous days, but as if it bore the traces of experiences. When we say experience, it is not gloomy experiences such as the forced separation of two lovers, or the helpless cry of a small child to find his lost mother. It was as if this pier existed only to make travelers achieve their dreams and reunite those who missed each other. It was such a day that the little man felt great. It was as if he was more valuable now that the sun was up to wake him up, and the calves were starting to graze to feed him today. As if the little man wasn’t small anymore The rhythmic rattling of the horses’ hooves as they passed by had always bothered him, till this day.
Today those damned voices are no longer torture, they are like music, like music that hasn’t been said or written to anyone before. However, I would not even listen to music, except for the hymns sung at church on Sundays. I didn’t enjoy them either, even though they sounded good at first, it would make me tired to listen to them for a long time, you know when you start doing something to finish it, I used to listen to the hymns like that, wishing it would end in every breath.
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That’s how I used to do everything though. Even to live, I would breathe to die, I would read the book to finish it. I would do it to be able to finish it without getting even a little pleasure from what I was doing. Why was I like this, oh! the color of the people around started to fade again, one by one the sound of the horseshoes turned into hideous torture again. I wasn’t even disappointed, I knew it would be like this already deep down, wouldn’t it always be like this anyway? I kept walking between the wry smile in my heart and those disgusting hooves. It was a normal Monday for a normal little man again.