The noisy streets of the city quickly added new emotions to Adelard's eyes. Noisy people, in beautiful clothes, quickly made him forget about Celeste's beautiful dresses. And he was even sure that if he saw her now, he wouldn't care. With that thought, he took a step forward. Walking past houses with patterned walls, past stores that sold all sorts of things, Adelard remembered a time when he and his mother had walked these same streets. Only then, things were different here.
After the rain, the tiled asphalt glistened, holding the weariness of the rain. And with every movement of the carriage wheels, every stone on the ground trembled, heading toward the people. First a shudder in the little stones, and then a thunder that made everyone shudder. Lifting their heads up, people angrily opened their umbrellas and moved on. The rain wanted to start dripping, but seeing that everyone was on standby, it moved aside. And as people relaxed and forgot about the bad weather, the
The sunset after the rain was never as beautiful as it was now. It was a magic that existed beyond words. And what can one say about a sunset? One could go on forever describing how the colors blend together to create illusion and eternal beauty. You can talk forever about the sunset, which pleases the eyes after a hard day. But what can you say about the sunset that graced the day after emotion, pain and happiness? Cities can change twice a day. It is in the morning and in the evening. In the morning, cities can be different. They may even have different colors of houses. In the evening, cities seem to breathe in and take on a whole new hue. For in the evening, everything becomes sincere. Sincerity appears in the eyes of people and even in the air. That is why, in the evening, it is so easy to fall in love and tell the truth. The moment the walls of houses and roofs were decorated with evening sunshine and the puddles on the ground began to glisten with a cold, the desire to speak
The carriage, with its two black horses, stopped in front of them and in that second it rained heavily. The thunder was louder than ever before. The lightning woke everyone with its brightness, and as the windows in the houses opened with force, a child's cries could be heard. The coachman, trying to calm his horses, looked up at the sky with anger in his eyes, as if offended by nature. But the rain did not stop at his gaze. It only intensified, frightening the horses even more. Shivering with cold, Adelard sat down and put his arms around his shoulders. His whole body trembled and even his teeth banged rhythmically against each other. Noticing this, Percival said, "Your wife hasn't even returned your clothes. I wonder why she needs your clothes?""She's not my wife," Adelard said, feeling anger every time she was called that."That's right. She was never your wife.""Aren't you cold?""No. I rarely feel cold. Mostly, I'm always ho
"Are you going to stand there all day? Come inside!""So, how do you know each other?" Percival asked again. Adelard continued to stare at them in surprise, thinking that this world really is a very small place. Gaspard looked at Adelard again, and blushing, still said, "You see, I was very ill. I was dying in the street, among the rats. And Monsieur Adelard took me to his house. There, he fed me, brought me back to life. But then, when I started coughing too often and too much, he put me in the hospital. He saved my life. And I will always be grateful for that. Always." His sparkling eyes looked too happy, too much like Percival's eyes. But their conversation was interrupted the moment Orion ran into the house and started jumping on everyone. "Orion! Sit down!"But then, Gaspard just couldn't help himself and asked, "Monsieur Adelard, how do you know my brother?""Brother? He's your brother?!" Adelard exclaimed too loudly."Why ar
"I have to go see him. I can't just sit around," Adelard said, grabbing his jacket and looking at the door again. After everyone left, the house felt a little cold and lonely. There was a breeze walking around the room, touching the fire in the fireplace. Papers with words crawled slowly along the walls and the table, following the wind. And Percival swayed lazily in his chair, looking at Adelard, who was clearly tormented by his conscience. But he couldn't imagine what was going on in his house, right in his bedroom. He couldn't even imagine what was going on in his room, by candlelight and with his portrait on the wall. Namely that his best friend was sleeping peacefully on his bed while his wife sat beside him, hugging his arm and kissing every finger. He was unaware of the conversation that lasted until they were in bed. The two worlds, existing side by side with each other, nevertheless recalled each other. The luxury, along with the cold, small house, seemed to dance, trying t
In the forgotten corners of this world, just as in the forgotten places of memory, people were trying to live. The whole world is built on survival. And perhaps that is not even life. After all, what can a person who can't look at the sun in the morning and look at the stars at night without a single thought of tomorrow afford? But what can a person who faces survival do? Survival is the basis of everything. From childhood to old age. But what is the purpose of all this, if in the end, a person remains dissatisfied with life anyway? What is all this race for money for? Why do we need love, which in the end will simply disappear? And most importantly, what is the purpose of a memory that only torments a person every day? If you look at the world without a single thought, then it raises the question of why person lives. What is the meaning of life? And why does everyone exist? To answer these questions, there are writers, artists, and scientists in the world. As well as composers, mus
"What's your name?" Nicholas asked, looking at him."Percival.""How's he doing?" Nicholas asked as if Adelard wasn't here."He's having a hard time. But he's smiling. He tries to smile. Though every smile is like a sharp knife.""Where did you find him?""I found him at the inn. His baby was sick and I found him at the moment when the two voices sounded in intense crying.""Does he live with you now?""Yes.""Where? What kind of house do you have and what kind of work do you do?""In a village. Not far from Paris. I am a writer. I make a living at it. I write articles for the newspaper and sometimes stories for children. It's enough to buy food and clothes.""What kind of house do you have?""Just an ordinary house. There are only two rooms. But the rooms are big and the house is warm.""How old are you?""Thirty."&
For the first time, Adelard saw him cry. And that face that was beautiful and kind and honest. Looking at the way the tears clung to his long lashes, at the way his little nose twitched slightly just like a rabbit's, Adelard smiled. "Let's go home," he said, putting his hands in his pocket.Percival looked up. Now, he saw a very different man. The real Adelard, who had been hiding behind the pain all this time."Let's go home," he said back. This day was the beginning they had always dreamed of.After two weeks of living in the village, which was becoming more beautiful every day and felt more like home, Adelard completed his treatment. Putting the last leaves of the medicinal herb into the hot water, he took a few sips and the scalding bitterness made him sweat and feel cramped once more. But when the pain passed, he slept soundly. He had never slept like this in his life. And he realized this when he woke up late in the afternoo
Adelard was surprised. But nevertheless, he replied, "I'm thinking. Just thinking.""I haven't seen you here before. Where are you from?""From a very distant town," Adelard replied with sadness in his voice."Everyone talks about you. And they say you are a very rich man. I see now. You really are rich. Very sad, though. Is it because of love?""At first my sadness was for love. Then, sadness became just sadness. I lost everything.""We all lose everything. Nothing can stay with us forever. Not even our thoughts, not even ourselves," she said and sat down next to him.Looking at her feet, Adelard still couldn't help but ask. "Aren't you cold?""No. I'm used to walking like this. I can't walk long in shoes. I need to feel nature." She touched his hair, thereby greatly surprising him. Curling a wavy lock on her finger, she said, "Your hair is so soft. I've never felt hair like that."
The gratitude for everyone who contributed to his life was too strong for Adelard to ever say, "I'll never trust people again." No, he remained the same. And even then, when a new life met him and even when he opened the book about his life.It was a heavy book, like his life, with his face on the cover. It was a book that kept everything about his family and about him. It was also a history of humanity. More precisely, human nature. Namely, the nature of person, who always wants to destroy the kindness, to insult and make suffer the one who is willing to do anything for the good of others. This book is not only about a person who was able to remain human after all that people have done, but it is about the fact that people are still not ready for kindness.They are not ready for generosity, because once you give something to them, they immediately become greedy and don't appreciate it at all, until they lose it all. They are not ready for understanding. Af
Time passed quickly as Adelard watched his son run through the places where he himself had once run and played as well. He saw himself in him and the happiness was too strong to remember all the pain and anger. No, his heart had always remained pure, without resentment or hatred. And it was his strength that created wings on his back that could never break. A heart without resentment is wings.When evening finally came, Adelard entered the house and stopped in front of a picture of his parents. "Mom, Dad, thank you," he whispered and heard Percival's voice, "How do I look?" He was wearing a new white suit that perfectly described his new start in life. It was perfect to be true.But people brought the truth with them and when everyone he knew was gathered in the house, Adelard walked up to Percival and said to him alone, "White suits you very well."Then, returning his gaze and attention to his guests, who stood with sad faces, Adelard said lou
After suffering, one ceases to feel guilty about what happened and is happening. After tears, scars remain on the face that no longer want to hurt. Sometimes it seems that a person has to go through everything and experience everything in order to eventually understand their own truth. It is only when a person has experienced everything that life begins. But sometimes, there are those in life who choose the path of the beholder. And often, trials and sufferings fall on the shoulders of the most sincere and kind people. While the audience continues to watch and applaud when they deem it right.This time, the audience, that is, the society decided that Adelard deserved respect and everyone, putting on their masks again, began to smile at him. Everything was back to normal. The same streets with flowers, the same faces and smiles. And the words, "Monsieur Adelard, how are you? I'm so happy you're all right."They said it again and again and as Adelard walked p
"Why did you kill Celeste?""I didn't kill her.""But you had the gun in your hands.""Yes. But I didn't kill her.""Monsieur Jean, do you hear me? Do you understand what I'm saying?""I'm sorry, but I have to go. I don't have time to be here with you.""You can't avoid what has happened and continues to happen. If you're playing, that's enough. Don't take up my time."Jean, feeling the pain in his hands, looked at his palms, which were covered in blood. He remembered nothing, he knew nothing. And with each second, it was hard for him to know who he was. With every second, he was losing himself. And as he lost himself, he became smaller. His shoulders slumped and he simply began to sink into the iron chair, which seemed like ice."Jean, you killed Celeste, and also wounded your friend. Also, you forged his signature on all the documents. You stole everything from him. I knew there
The past always walks behind a person. The past is always ready to replace the present and the future. The past is too strong and demands everything from a person. And sometimes, people just give up on the future for the sake of always remembering. Memory plays very important role in a person's destiny. Every object, every street of the city and music, everything around is a reflection of memory. Every detail of this world holds the memory of every human being. Just look at the tree, which seems to be very ordinary, but it may be that someone is associated with this tree almost his entire life. Or look at a house, a book, a letter, a painting, and you realize that someone has left his or her entire life in these objects. In the outline of flowers lovers leave their best memories, on the surface of the moon people leave their best dreams and hopes, which after a few years become a memory. Memory is everywhere. The past wants all the attention it can get. That's what happened to Adela
As he finished the book that had been the longest in his life, Percival wrote the last sentence and with his hand up, he closed his eyes and felt the moment as great as victory itself. He felt victorious. His heart was beating too fast. Because this feeling was stronger than falling in love. This feeling was stronger and more important than love. When he opened his eyes, he looked out the window, at the people passing by and at the sea that glistened far away and then, he looked at his papers. He had finished another of his books. But this book was different from the others. For each page held only one name - Adelard. Yes, he did write a book about him. It was his biography. From his childhood to his betrayal. All these three years he had worked on only one book. Every day of those three years he studied the town, the people and the history. He listened to people talk, he asked them about Adelard. He went to the library and read a lot. But he only had time at night. And so, for all
When Armand was already far into the woods, Adelard continued to stare in his wake until he sensed the passage of time. And yet in those three years, Adelard had changed too. He was already thirty-four and soon to be thirty-five. But his appearance hadn't changed in any way. What had changed was himself. Finally, he became a little more attentive to people. He understood the world and saw too many dangers. And all for the sake of keeping Armand safe. And every time the child left him alone, he felt weak from anxiety. He was afraid that Armand would let people hurt his heart too soon. That fear was the only feeling while Percival was not around. But with him, Adelard forgot everything. After all, the key to his world had long been in Percival's hands. While the key to Armand's world was in his hands.The thought of Armand growing up and beginning to understand everything frightened Adelard. But what could he do? Just keep working, make money, and keep making soap. Yes, h
Looking out the window, Adelard remembered Nicholas. Perhaps by chance, not so far away, somewhere on the steppe, Nicholas looked out the window and smiled. And so, the night with all the stars and the moon came to tell tales and remind everyone of dreams. Only now immersed in memories did Adelard remember everything. And again pain and sadness took their place in a heart that was just healing. But how quickly the heart can remember pain and break again. At times it seems that the heart only lives by pain and sadness, because how quickly it can forget the good things and absorb all the unpleasant feelings. After all, even love, also a kind of pain. And why does a person even remember everything? Isn't it always to feel pain? But what would be if a person remembered nothing and started each day anew? What would the heart do then? But the strangest thing in this world is that when the heart is sad, nature responds with sadness too. The sun turns to rain and it gets dark around you. Th
Adelard spent the next few hours by just contemplating the nature. He liked to look out the window of the train, just like when he was a child. He was flying through empty steppes, through forest, tunnel, and past mountainous terrain. His gaze clung to the Sun, which slowly let the Moon take its place. His attempts to stop time were naive, but still he continued to stare at the sun until the train finally stopped. Night had not yet fallen. There was a pleasant sunset all around and so, Adelard was happy. For he could clearly see Percival's face. Quickly leaving the train, he ran towards the town. He didn't even pay attention to the fact that the memories, like little birds, were trying to draw his attention to themselves. He didn't care that this was where he was born. He didn't care that every corner reminded him of something. After all, he had long since noticed a tall figure near the tree."Percival!""Adelard come. Hurry!""Where are