He’s love tale started at a young age when stories of going blind were a real concern. He had decent hair on his head but looking like a priest no matter how he would cut it. Let’s call him Si. In those days you could confess all your sins to him even if you were a saint. He couldn’t get you fixed for heaven but give you a certain peace of mind just by talking to him. He had this fantastic quality. One day on a train to Bratislava his mama found a young lady on the corridor starring at the passing trees. Mama offered her a cigarette and introduced her son into the conversation, the amateur priest. To give you a larger picture, the girl on the corridor was someone I used to know. Let’s call her Mi. Mi didn’t smoke… I too met Si after a few years and I started confessing my sins straight away. It’s just an impulse we all get when we talk to Si.
After their wedding I got myself a very modest cabin close to a lake and stared at the day and night sky like a stoned flamingo. I call me Mister Flamingo. I heard they had a nice wedding but Mi ran away with their Israeli wedding photographer, five years younger than Si. Needless to say, no one saw the wedding pictures. Si was calm as ever, he had the solitude of rocks, he was a shaolin master. No woman could mess up his Zen fiber and he used this personality well when fighting with life’s problems. He had three more girls, his step daughters – Mi’s daughters. Oh, and we shouldn’t overlook mama. She made all this fucking magic to happen.
One ordinary day… Si drove his four favorite women to McDonalds and After, he drove his black and old rusted Lincoln into a beauty salon across the diner. As the field of view got narrower and darker Si kept his hands on the wheel and looked at her, frustrated. Mi was there. Too far away! He tasted his own blood mixed with his tears and then… all of a sudden, darkness blurred his life away. He died creating inside his mind an atmosphere of regrets and defeat which destroyed his last second of life, the most important second in One’s life.