The streets are completely desolate, and the tall, gray buildings surround me as I walk down the street, and the sky is gray; I can feel a fierce wind against my cheeks, it is cold and I shiver a little, but I walk down the street taking one step after another, and the sky has a sad, gray colour, there is not a living soul around me and I can see the tall threatening buildings and I am afraid of their towering construction: the grotesque sculptures of naked men and women stare at me from their lofty heights as I walk down the street, the wind is furious and I shiver alone; I come to a bridge - the river looks dirty and brown and the sound of its roar beneath me and the sight of the gray sky, where big black birds fly above me, and the image of gnarled faces of the stony men and women around me terrify me as I stand alone in the world… The wind blows fiercely against my cheeks, but I have hope and I continue roaming the lonely streets, and as the scene becomes drearier and drearier, I observe with my melancholy eyes the bare branches of trees that have lost their natural mirth and seek tender sweet joy, which makes my eyes wrinkle beautifully and my lips create a sincere smile that reveals my teeth, but my eyes are not wrinkled now and my face is dull and I don’t smile at all while I continue my path through the windy streets of the dull town beneath the sad, gray sky which hides the sun, but I have hope and suddenly my whole body trembles as I see her standing alone and shivering; I see her pale cheeks and tender, red lips and long, beautiful, red hair and gray, sullen eyes and her face is mirthless as she stares blankly at the muddy river, her arms held together; I, a trembling creature, shyly approach her while my heart beats faster and I feel as if it will jump out of my chest, my lips turn into a polite smile and my eyes are full of tears that have not yet flown and now I stand behind her: “Hey, you came.”
Smiling, she fills the universe with her sweet, low voice and I feel her soul through her radiant eyes behind spectacles, through flushed cheeks and a content smile; she stands beautifully in this dreary scene, shyly holding her frail, pale hands together: a mountain daisy in a dreadful storm she is, and I feel an inexplicable urge to protect her, to serve her, to indulge her, but I know that mountain rocks can only crush delicate flowers and I tremble, I tremble and take a deep breath: “Yes, of course I came. I couldn’t bear leaving you.” “I hurt you.” “I know, it doesn’t matter. Talk no more of that. Are you alright?” “I am now. Thank you.” She was whispering, embarrassed, as the memory of the dark cavern where she had been alone and forgotten and hopeless came to her mind, and she remembered how I offered a hand; a broken heart sought another, and she accepted it, while my heart deceived itself of higher emotions, of a power that could revive me, me, a broken man, and elevate me, rescue me from the squalor of my existence, the dreariness, the hopelessness, but alas! Daisies are meant for daisies, and a rock’s affection is vainly bestowed on frail flowers, and she was healed by her kind, and sprung high into the air, feeling the warmth of the sun, while I sunk into the depths of despair… “I am sorry.” “I know. “ The moment froze itself as her cheeks grew red and her gaze was cast on the dirty ground and my heart bled for her guilt, for her misery, and my love, a pain unbearable, revived instantly and a sudden urge to protect her, to love her, to hold her with all my being, with all my strongest emotions, arose in me, and as I placed my hand on her shoulder, she started to cry – my better faculties failed me, and all I could utter was: “Don’t. Don’t. It’s alright. Daisies are meant for daisies. It’s not your fault.” A falsely reassuring smile made her wipe her tears and look up, and I was less miserable as she healed. “Let’s sit.” And we sat, with our hands on our knees, looking at the gray river howling under the bridge. We sat silently, each understanding the other’s thoughts, unable to make amends, unable to change, unable to break free. Each in a cage, as the river ran on and on… A young man tossed a blanket from his body and looked at the table next to him. The painful sun rays were pouring through the window – it had dawned, a beautiful, sunny day. He got up lazily and walked to the window. His gaze fell on two young people, walking together, hand in hand, united. Daisies are meant for daisies, he thought.