Don't ask someone who is walking hastily for help with an address. No address is more important than the address that he or she is aiming to arrive at. Don't extend your hands to him; his hands are not by his side. Don't greet him. Your frequency is not picked up by his antennas. Don't try to distract him. You are not a billboard sign. You can speak after all; and he may be afraid of your lips. Are you feeling a little under the weather? He's not a doctor. Can you not cross the street to get to the other side? He can't grab you by the arm, he's in a rush. Did you trip and fall? He can't bend down. It's gravity and natural. If he had time, he'd stop by your tent. Maybe he'd even donate blood. You'd even place a red pin on his collar. If he had time he'd read your writing. He'll leave his newspaper on the ferry while eyeing other ones. Does he not smile when you do? A bounced cheque. Does he hold the tip of your fingers when you extend your hand? You have leprosy. Does he not answer the phone when you call? He has call display. Plus his phone is on vibration, he practically doesn't even have to move. Or maybe your call isn't going through; assume the best of him. He is quickly running down to the stairs that go underground. An iron snake approaches the yellow line and hisses. He travels the city every day and night with his snake. Hurray for speed! Hurray for the snake! If he has to poison us, so be it! Let it poison us so that we can run on the escalator, gasping for air. We don't have time to eat; how are we to set up a table? Should we set it ever so slowly, in a state of pondering? Should we notice the sheen of the olives? Or the steam of the soup? Should the picture of a hungry child cast upon our plate? No, no. Let's sign our names to an invention brighter than that of Edison: Fast food! The sooner the food finishes the more time is left! The quicker the table clears, the more the profit!
Where did this moon come from and when did it tap its scythe onto the sky? What magnificence! When did the stars fall out from the sky? The children are picking them up from the ground as they scream. When did the civil servant lift his white-gloved hand? When did life stop? Or did it not stop but appears to have stopped for us? The train is coming and the man at the metro saw the yellow line for the first time. He remembered the border, the limitlessness. He runs up the escalator stairs. He'll be a minute late in ascending on to the earth, but that's OK. Weightiness and airiness both shared his body. Weighty enough to be aware of everything. Light enough to fly anywhere. And he flew to a child's face, a child that is sitting on his mothers lap. He didn't even snicker to make his nose move and make the child laugh. For the first time he held on to a child's smile, a place where he couldn't fall from. Then he suddenly noticed his hands! Which button was it that he pressed? His arms suddenly gushed out of this body. He looked at his hands for a very long time. Then he held the hand of a blind person to help him cross the street. He helped a senior who had fallen on to the ground. He placed some money into one of his palms. He waved at someone from a distance. He looked at his cell phone: Three missed calls. He called them one by one. What was happening? The pumpkin was transforming into a car and the mice into white horses. And the magic wasn't coming to an end at midnight. A human is born in nine months and grows in 30 days. His eyes grow the most. He saw trees today and pomegranates that were swinging on them like chandeliers! He saw seagulls sticking their feet with yellow flippers into the waves. He saw bread as it came fresh out of the oven with steam of friendship on top. He took that bread and broke it into two. The bread grew. Hurray for the bread that grew!
The little man grew bigger. Because he realized just where it was that he had to make it to. He realized and walked slowly towards his destination. Would a person walk slowly to a place they had to make it to? They would. The little man is walking slowly in the city that automobiles pass through. He takes extended gazes at roads, bridges and houses as though he is a pilgrim. He looks at the sea in amazement, as though he is looking at it for the first time. When the speed stopped, the city grew and it's hunchback was cured. It's shoulders were erected. Vitality came to his feet. Its dull eyes became full of life. The idea of flying dawned upon the little man. This time he ascended over the city that he was accustomed to flying over in a plane as though he was a kite, allowing himself to be drifted by the wind. How beautiful the earth was! How beautiful hunger was! How beautiful thirst was! Ramadan, an unanswered call. It was calling upon him from every minaret. The muaddhins -- those calling for prayer -- were transferring one word to thousands of mosques just so that he could hear it. He saw it once. He could no longer be considered to have not seen it. He heard it once. He could not be considered to have not seen it. He let himself descend down to the ground so that he could save himself from the emptiness. There it was! The little man was gathering his pieces from the ground. These eyes, these hands, these feet... The big man was lifting his heart off the ground. A heart that was throbbing in his hands.