Mr Taciturn and his Heart of Gold
How wrong can one get?
In every community you can find the Diagnosed. Who are the Diagnosed? Let’s start from the very beginning — the baseline theory. I think that every single one of us cannot be called “normal”. What’s the exact meaning of “normal” anyway? I guess we all have a sort of vague idea of it, but have you met anyone that is the reflection of this idea? If you have, that must mean one thing — you have failed to get close enough to this person to find out. We’re all different, we all deviate from “the norm” to a greater or lesser degree, which is wonderful by the way.
Among us you can find the Diagnosed, the ones with a specific label allotted, who are easier to recognize as they no longer try to hide their deviation. Why? Because they can’t, don’t want to, don’t care or are simply courageous enough not to pretend anymore.
Some of the Diagnosed seem to be totally detached from the reality, submerged in their own world in a manner so convincing that you start doubting if your world is this real one for sure. And maybe it isn’t. How can you be one hundred per cent sure? In my native town there are a few diagnosed of the kind.
Mr Sunny — as round and radiant as the beautiful sun above. He’s always ready to take bows sending warm smiles and kind words to all people walking by. There’s Ms Businesswoman traversing town pavements with vigorous, assertive, long strides, gesticulating excessively, always in the middle of a fervent discussion with business partners, invisible for me, about some critical turning point in her company’s existence.
I can also meet Mr Taciturn with a Heart of Gold, in his world there’s nothing but wind and heavy rain. Gloomy like the darkest autumn night he’s always invariably silent hiding carefully his warm and kind heart. At least that’s what I’d imagined until last Thursday when he… opened his mouth.
I was crossing the Old Town and from afar I could recognize a lady lawyer I’ve had the pleasure to work with on several occasions (I’m a translator) — the lady as usual looked dazzling, reserved and chick. Upon spotting her Mr Taciturn froze immediately, his eyes let out forked lightning and he yelled,
“Hey, you, doll!”
No response, surprisingly.
“Who do you think you are, ha? You slut, you bitch, a whore…”
The lawyer disappeared quickly in a drugstore. I put on a hood and sped up my pace.
“Oh, here’s another one, she’s put on a hood and thinks she’s invisible…what a tramp, a piece of rubbish, a doormat. You footreeeeest!”
Oh.My.God.
How wrong can one get?
©2020 Marta Mozolewska. All rights reserved.
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