~ Freedom is power ~

In the endless train of our life quests, sleeping the stories of many departures into the unknown world, of suffering and goodbyes. Someone found love and happiness on the railroads, and some disappointment and restlessness. Train journeys are long, they may represent the only moment when we feel that all the time in this world belongs to us. As the images of cities and people are quickly passing by, we are slowly thinking about life. On that long journey we have to choose whether to live our own life or to let ourselves lead a fake one. We meet different people and hear their life stories which are sometimes tragic and sometimes beautiful. Some of them in this uninterrupted movement seek the island of hope, and some peace and tranquility. This is a story about a man lost somewhere on the bridge between family and work, in the crowd of people and reality. I met him by accident twenty years ago when I decided to take a step into the far away world and face all its beauty and dangers. Somewhere in that world I met him, the man who reappeared so many times in my thoughts. I remember that time when we were young and brave but at the same time conscious that freedom is our greatest treasure that has no price. Our homes were trains and travels, the sky full of stars which we observed for so long, fantasizing. And then everything changed. War ruined our wishes and dreams. We could no longer see the stars. Everything turned into dust and the wind that carried lives and people into an unknown direction. This whirlwind swallowed all our expectations. All that left was a memory and the promise we gave one another a long time ago. I’ve been keeping him deep in my heart for all these years. Now, while I’m writing this, I’m coming back to him for the last time and I remember everything with tears in my eyes; after twenty years someone from the far away world tried to refresh his memories. I don’t know how, but I knew it was him. Everything seemed unreal, I thought I was dreaming. And then, suddenly, I started waking up from that dream. My memory started to fade away somewhere into the distance, in the shadow of the man who was looking at me without the sparkle in his eyes, in the shadow of bodyguards who kept his freedom. - I’ve become a powerful man - was one of the first sentences he pronounced. - And what is power? - I asked. His blurred look wandered around the black limousine with dark windows, his bodyguards were waiting like trained dogs, being quiet, listening. An unnatural smile was spreading across the room while he was telling me about his wealth, about people whose destinies he created. While I was watching a strange man in the same body, pain was ripping through my chest. He was in the clouds not knowing that greater height brings greater desolation. That powerful man I no more recognized tried to buy my freedom with gifts, he forgot that once he knew that freedom cannot be bought and that generosity isn’t in one’s pocket but in one’s heart. He couldn’t face the fact that I remained the same, that in spite of all the temptations I managed to preserve myself; the price wasn’t important. He was planning our happiness without knowing that nothing’s more hopeless than its planning. - Do you remember the promise? - I asked. He was quiet. That was some kind of answer, too. I was creating while he was enjoying his power. I created “Wonderful world” and gave it to him as a present, I gave something priceless, the part of my heart where I kept and nurtured the memory and the promise. It was hard saying goodbye, not to the strange man in the same body but to the memories. I said goodbye and kissed the freedom. And yes, I felt powerful!
Freedom is power, author Suzana Stojanović, July 10, 2008