The other... the Other... THE OTHER!
Visible or invisible, here’s the one we’re talking about... ; let us not name him.... ; let us walk besides him as if everything is normal... ; let us ignore his silence... ; his brightness or his darkness... ; let us not even think he might exist, but let us ward off danger with some of those precious Signes-à-Jésus which, as we believe, burn him as much as he tries to burn us.
He’s a cunning one or a coward like the fox or like the wolf. He is one. He is many. He’s from the city and from the fields, always dressed accordingly. Loud or quiet. Sometimes sweet as a nun’s smile or fractious like a robbed farmer. Elegant or looking like a mobster. Lord or beggar. Fake like a gold-plated lead coin, like a colourful raven.
Provider of the most voracious blaze, seeking or demanding, he himself works like a damned man. To hunt down a rebellious soul, he has to squander treasures of ingenuity. We saw him as a wind, as a swarm, as sparks, as a sheep, as rocks, as a Good Saint, as a dog, as an egg, as millet grain, as water and as many other deceiving shapes... though never as a holy water font. But still, it is as a man, like you and me, that he works the best...
