Encounter 2
In the city's, a man (consider me as a man) strides slowly, a city where dreams and sorrows flow.
Faces flicker by, like shadows cast; each one has a story. This journey of reading face was vast, hand moving swiftly, which is carving out their fate, the wind navigating them to their destination with every step; it feels the weight of time, the hurried breaths, the silent climb. In that silence, I could hear only my breathing, finding myself in the crowd of people who were hustling for me.
It's pretty funny to know that they don't know I am also among them. As the colors merging from one end to the other, as captivating as life.
I had seen many Hustlers here, a baker and his flour dust in the air; his happy face carried a sorrow inside of what his kids will have tonight. A weary teacher, burdened with despair.
At another end, a mother's gaze, fierce and yet so kind. Each heart was making this floor bloom with joy by watering it with tears.
All these scenes were like a arras woven with the threads of hope in the chaos of life; they learned to wait for something better.
While walking, touching the dust that was lying on the ground looked like each dust particle was crying out loud its story.
That's when I learned every species on the planet is striving in their own unique way to leave a great life; it is not only about you working.
At the waters edge, a man (obviously me) standing still where the sea stretches its arm and welcoming you (me) with the waves, a boundless thrill.
Colors emerging softly looking like they were dancing to the blues blend with greens in a mesmerizing trance. The sky was an empty canvas but painted with endless hues and some cotton-shaped clouds. Welcoming the sun rays to make their way through the patches between the trees. Clouds drift like whispers, light and free, while the waves sing secrets, wild and deep.
But from the depths, a figure was making its way. A soldier emerges, weary and scarred by the sea; his body had a kiss from a bullet singing its story etched in pain.
Yet he strides forth; as the wind calls his name, he managed to walk to the majestic trees who were framing the tranquil scene. In Nature's embrace, a gentle hand in the form of a leaf fell on his wound. Still, the blood was flowing like a river when the dam was opened. The wind carried echos of battles long fought, a symphony of courage, of lessons hard wrought.
A boy saw him far from the end, and that was the day I saw the words snatcher the second time.
Second.
So when I saw him the first time, nobody knows, but I do know it. When he saw the soldier, he ran to see him. Seeing the wound made him tremble his eyes when placed on the soldier's cap, brawled out. He was from the US Navy (as you know, we are in Japan). It's 5 March 1942.)
He wanted to leave, but a sense of humanity stopped him. He had a chocolate in his hand; he gave it to the soldier.
You can sense how amazing the scene was. During the silence, someone passed by me. Who was it?
It was Death.
The soldier was smiling at the act of the child, but his smile displayed the pain. He said something with a tremble in his voice, which lingered my heart with sorrow.
His last words
Thank you, little boy.
Then the soul left his body and moved with death. When he saw me, he winked.
How can he do that?
The word snatcher was still standing around the corpse. The world erupts in a cry; colors bleed from the heavens, a kaleidoscope sky.
From dusk to down, hues shifted and ignited.
Thus stands the man, while the wind sweeps the land, and that splash of wind carried the smell of courage somewhere else.
And that's the moment where life and death join hand in hand. The beauty of nature is a backdrop to strike.
As the essence of living dances with life. I heard a voice who called me; that was the time I had to go for my work, leaving the word snatcher by his own.
After traveling from the town to the edge of the world seashore, the sky had changed a lot.
