A short story

Saying hi to my new friend: Introduce yourselves

Dear Readers,

I don’t want to spend time introducing myself by telling you things about myself and my life. But I will disclose one secret: I’ve tried many times to start writing my diary, but I failed-most of the times. Now, I have one very strong reason to start doing it. As I entered my sweet years, I decided to spend couple of days alone, at place totally unknown. But before I start, I have to give name to my new friend. My Readers, please help me find the appropriate name for these friend, for this notebook, for my diary. This friend I can always talk to. How should I call it? Maybe Kathleen? Or Kathy?

Yes, I think Kathleen is suitable name (it reminds me of the first doll I used to play with)

Does it remind YOU of something/someone maybe?

Day 1:

Dear Kathleen,

Today is the big day. MY big day. I walk slowly counting each of my steps. Unexplored, totally unknown world is waiting for me. Am I doing the right thing? My heart whispers: “Do the right thing.” But, do you know what the right thing is? Maybe this is it. I hope it is.

I’ve never travelled before. I spend most of the days here, on this desert like and God-abandoned Island. Nothing was going on. Sixteen year of my life, I passed here. Sixteen years of boredom. Sixteen years without imagination.

My big day is here. It is here. I am walking away of this place. Even though I will come back after 4 days…Something new will be seen. My heart beats faster and faster as I approach the so known Fast Ferry.

I approach. I am on the Ferry. I have this feeling I cannot describe. Under my feet I feel the water. I start moving. A music is playing. Soft music. I feel a river flowing in me. I dance. Everyone’s looking at me. But I am alone. I care for no one. I dance. I feel the freedom. I have the world in my hands. There are no boundaries on this ferry. Perfect feeling.

The Ferry starts moving. The wind blows in my faces, making me feel even better. It’s a whole new world to me. It’s a whole new experience. It’s a whole feeling I never had before.

I don’t know if you, Kathleen and you, my Readers, understand this, but it’s something in me. Something I feel.

Day 2:

Dear Kathleen,

I am writing to you again. I just arrived in this city where people say murano glass is produced. There is something in this city. As most of you, including you Kathleen, may know this is the city of Venice. I try to find out why it’s called Venice. However, I cannot get an answer. I don’t like the name Venice. At all. I don’t know why, but it’s just TOO simple. It’s meaningless. Therefore, I decide to give a new name. I will call it the city of Mapo or as Italians would say La citta di Mapo. I like their language. It’s so melodic-it’s like singing a song. I would love to learn it. I start counting the number of streets and tunnels. I arrive at 1390. Then, I give up. Their number is equal to ten to the power of nine, or maybe more. I get lost. It seems to me like I’ve been here. I felt this air somewhere before. But I can’t remember where. Where was that? Maybe you remember? Kathleeen you are silent as always. Tell me something. No answer. As always. Silence.

In my heart, I bring piece of this city. Piece of the land I am now walking on. I have it with me.

You will excuse me now, but I had a very busy day. I shall go to sleep early. Who know what I’ll see in my dreams (if any are to come to me).

Day 3:

Dear Kathleen,

From la citta di Mapo, after two days and one night, you arrive at my nameless city: my imaginary city. No one else, but you, Kathleen and you, my readers, can see this city. No one else. Because you are the only ones who have the ability to read my mind.

My city is white, exposed to the moon, with streets wound about themselves as in skein. Men of different nations have identical dream. Those men come to my city. All of them, but me, have an identical dream. They see a women running at night through my city. Who is she: you don’t get to know. The men see her only from behind. She has long hair. She is naked. The men dream of her. They dream of pursuing her. In the end, each of them loses her track. They set a search in my imaginary city. However, they can’t find her. She always escapes. They never get to see her again. Never ever. Asleep or awake- she was neither here, nor there.

New group of men comes. They have the same dream. Exactly the same.

I don’t understand: what drew these people to my city, my ugly city that looked like trap.

If someone of you understands, please tell me.

Day 4:

Dear Kathleen,

Dear Readers,

I have nothing left to say or share. I told you almost everything. Everything I felt during my journey. Now I am going back. I don’t feel the excitement anymore. I am going back to my forgotten island. To that deserted place where nothing’s going on. Nothing, but everything.

No more imagery, no more music…More boundaries, less freedom. And this is I guess where my story ends.