People's Shadows

I am faceless, afraid to smile. This place fails to grasp my essence, and the walls around me hold no significance other than the limits of my movement. I spin around, dive deep within, summon my deepest memories, and search far away for the child I once was, yearning with a passion for those first moments of wonder. Nothing is happening outside; all the wars, conflicts, peace agreements, and reconstruction are taking place far from my sight. Between four walls, as long as the ceiling hasn't collapsed, nothing worth paying attention to happens. Everything is the same, and it will be tomorrow. Sometimes the faucet changes color with new spots eaten away by rust, and it might turn green later. I'm afraid it will explode and flood the place, that I'll die before anyone knows about the nothingness that's going on here. A person drowning silently might not be mentioned among the emergencies of opening doors. I orbit around myself, delving into the depths of my soul, unearthing my earliest memories, and casting a wide net in search of the child I once was. My yearning for those moments of initial wonder burns intensely within me.

Beyond these walls, the world seems to spin in a tumult of wars, conflicts, peace agreements, and reconstruction, but it all remains distant from my view. Within these four walls, as long as the ceiling holds steady, nothing of significant note seems to unfold. The status quo persists, and tomorrow promises more of the same. Occasionally, the faucet changes hues, displaying new patches corroded by rust, and at times it may even take on a greenish tinge. I dread the thought of it bursting and inundating this place. I fear fading into obscurity, quietly submerged in the midst of life's urgent doors, a human existence unnoticed amid the flurry of emergencies.