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Sunday, July 24, 2005


I've seen quite a few blogs these days, oh have I seen blogs! Val, yours is like beholding a volcanic explosion: both beautiful and devastating.

So I'm going to tell you a little tale now:

The road of the warrior

Down the road, the warrior kept on walking, grasping both his stomach and the grip of his gun, he hadn't eaten for so long he thought it was forever, and he didn't feel like he could raise his weapon to fight anymore, even if his life depended on it.

Just as he was about to curse his destiny and lay to starve, he saw the glimpse of a house right ahead of him. He dragged his feet to the door, which was wide open, and he saw with joy that a nice maiden with a smiley face beckoned to him to come inside.

An hour later he was full of joy and good food, his clothes were clean and his muscles finally relaxed. He felt like he could stay like this forever, all his needs fulfilled, all his pains gone.

And she didn't say a word or asked for reasons, she just served, obeyed and smiled. He would tell her his stories from distant lands, about unending battles and struggle. She would just smile and nod, basking in the hero's virtues and stories.

So he thought he could stay there forever. No more fighting, only his deserved rest.

But a couple days later, he felt restless. Wasn't he supposed to be happy? Wasn't this all that he dreamed? A quiet life, a handshake and no alarms and no suprises? Why did he feel this urge to stand up and run out to the desert again, to the hunger, the loneliness and the conflict?

He tried to delay it, he really did, but one morning he grabbed his pack, sheathed his gun and ran through the door, in the middle of the night and the rain without ever looking back. He cursed at himself, he hated himself.

But still, he ran and he smiled....


A couple months later, our hero can be seen again, really thin and tired by the journeys, once again dragging himself on the road, but this time the road was sandy and unfriendly, not a soul to be seen for miles. But in the horizon, he once again saw the shadow of a house, so he kept on walking.

As he approached the door, he could read signs, hostile signs. "no tresspassing", "enter at your own risk" "danger". His voice of self-preservation told him to turn back and leave, but he really had nowhere else to go, and that voice had become a mere whisper now.

There were skeletons too, some complete and in horrible poses, others incomplete but wholly frightening all the same. He had to put his coat over the barbed-wire fence and hop with his last strength.

He knocked on the door..

An opening through the door let a shotgun out, followed by the rough voice of a lady:


But he didn't flinch.

"You're all the same, I had dreams, I had hopes, but you'd come in the middle of the night, steal my animals and salt my fields. Not again. You're not welcome"

He just muttered "I am hungry, please, just a little bread"

"Why should I?"

The hero barely smiled "because, even hungry as I am, If I wanted to damage you, you'd be dead already".

She didn´t open the door, but pulled back the shotgun and said "You can sleep in the doorway, and if even a speck of dirt is missing from my property tomorrow, you'll have lead for breakfast".

Almost as an afterthought, a piece of bread fell from the hole. He picked up the bread and ate it. It was damp and tasted like cardboard, but for whatever reason, he liked it.


It was almost a month now, and he was now sleeping in the barn. The bread was still damp and tasteless, but she would toss an apple or a glass of milk every now and then. He worked on the fields and he felt tired. This was so hard. He wanted to stand up and leave, but for whatever reason he kept waking up, helping the lady and sleeping in the barn every day, while telling her his stories of foreign lands, hoping she would know him through them.

Just as he was about to sleep, the lady opened the barn door. She had her shotgun still, but she vaguely smiled and said "y'know, it's raining and I don't want to have a flu-infected hobo living on my property. Come on, kid, you'll sleep in the living room tonight"

Right there he knew he could stay, for a little longer at least.


So this guy had complained for a long time about his uncomfortable situation, but ran away from all earthly comforts one rainy night. After that he stayed eating stale bread and sleeping in a barn for days after days. Is he crazy?

To an extent, yes, he is. But what happened on his head?

Well, in the first house, he had it all except for freedom and deserving. He had fought all his life, but couldn't enjoy any of the pleasures of a relaxed life, because he hadn't fought for it.

But in the second one he had to fight against a thousand demons for mere pieces of stale bread. He deserved every bite, and he enjoyed the challenge. He had fought for so long that now the fight had become a part of him, now he knew that to be worth it, he had to earn it.

I wrote this as a way to say that I am willing to fight for what I want, especially with my emotions. I came from a time where I could have everything I wanted from a person with just a word, but I hardly knew her, and she swore she loved me after just a couple days of knowing me. Now I'm walking down the sandy road, learning that special people have sometimes become so special because they sheltered themselves behind traps, walls and labyrinths, just to make sure that the few ones that could survive it all would be as special as them. Knowing I can be that special if I believe in myself.

I used to think that if someone opened the door, that would be enough for me to start a relationship and make it work. Now I know better, I know I'll have to break barriers and remain faithful until I can knock on the door.

Now I think that it takes guts to get to the door, and if anyone is brave enough to open the door for me, I will be brave enough to prove, to myself and to her, that the road of the warrior has been worth it and that all the tests and difficulties just make the relationship a lot better in the end.

I am of course very scared, but I'm not walking away until all hope is spent.

Thanks, and have a good one.


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