I Envy You, Old Man
I envy you old man.
I envy you for being brave enough to leave it all behind.
I envy you on the serenity you’ve found in that god forsaken patch of land, with your goats, is it? And it’s a perfect harmony. They are keeping you company but not disturbing you, though, while you sit on the porch and a sweet scent of coffee and rain that is just about to pour consumes you bit by bit. Maybe you’ll walk barefoot to the creek as your old wrinkled feet squeak on wet grass of that vast weald. Raindrops make their way down the canals of your face that were dug out when you were where I’m now. On top of that there are no spoiled brats to leave trash around or ladies to blame you for enjoying summer rain because rain will destroy their ridiculous hairdos. I, myself, would also prefer mischievous goats over sheep- blind followers of maleficent leaders. But, don’t worry. I’m not taking yours. I’ll find my own soon enough.
Oh… another thing. Back here, people call you crazy. I disagree, of course, but I just wanted you to know, but, you probably don’t even care anymore. Do you? What a lucky man you are. I’m not going to bother you anymore - I just want to ask you one more question. Are we really mad if madmen call us mad?
This story is courtesy of Bihać Calling.