#yk3a

[yk3aaa]

The thoughtful way.

I kept trying to understand. They were passing by, talking to themselves. Communicating their thoughts to the world, while unsure anyone was listening to it. Letting go, publicly of their fears, worries, demands, thoughts and questions. You would hear one say: “But why did she leave me?”. And another: “Should I buy bread and jam, or make a cake?”. A third one would seat still on a bench, and ask much wider questions: “Why is the world round? And will we ever see more than just the milky-way? If I could changed the world, how would I do it?”...

They would walk around in circle, ambling the ring, in the hope, that, by the time they had circled it, they would know the answers. As if, walking, would act as an oracle. As if, the Sphinx, would be there, at the end of their round, to indicate them what choices were right, and which ones were wrong.

They were not walking for the simple satisfaction of doing so, but for its unknown healing properties. Through walking, they were hoping to achieve what they were unable to do at work. They were hoping to see and understand the flaws of others, they were hoping to resolve their own imperfections. Looking at the world differently. They would go round and round until all that was done. They would keep walking, until, exhausted, they would hit their bed and let go of what could not be changed. Once home, they would stop thinking - their attention being taken by the television.

They were lucky to live in a place in which they could go round long enough, for them to succeed to resolve half of their problems. The ring was a true problem solver, and without it; most of the citizens would be complete loonies. One should ask, why is that called the Green Boulevard and not the Thoughtful Way?

[yk3aaa]

That tiny little door.

It appeared suddenly, a little at odds with itself, it jiggled softly. And finally settled. There was a tudor mansion on the right. And a brutalist building on its left. But a void had been in between the two for years, until that one tiny little door appeared. I was sitting on a bench - the one and only bench in the nearby periphery. When I first sat, unpacking my lunch, and shaking my salad, for all the ingredients to mix; I had seen no door. Perhaps I did not pay it enough attention. Or maybe, it was not here before. I quite truly believe that it was not here before. It should have been here of course, but let’s admit it was not. Let’s admit that for one little second I was not hearing voices but seeing things, in particular doors. Let’s think outside the realm of our own beliefs and accept that every architecture details does actually appear just like that, out of the blue, from nowhere, all at once, without warning. But that does not matter, in reality, whether the door was there or not before I had lunch; because it now is. I even drew it, just to be sure it would not disappear, and it was still there at the end of my drawing. It is still there now, in fact. Magic does happens to the one ready to believe. And I believe that door appeared magically, don’t you?

YES.

NO.