Island

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There was silence behind the door. I knocked again. This time louder. After a while, I saw a face in the door, with a face that said clearly, “WHAT?” I heard a strong question, “What’s the neighbor there?” I got air and in one breath I threw out, “I wanted to see if everything was ok, because I heard loud screams.” Her face turned red and she immediately threw nervously: “If something doesn’t like it to live in the forest, or to the island!”. Sizzle!

This happened a dozen years ago. Since then, I have carried this island in my memory. As a symbol of peace and freedom.

I didn’t immediately find my island. Before I allowed myself this luxury, I tore my elbows at work, making sure that no one bent my neck and brought me to a position on my knees. Yes, my back was hunched over, but my chin still didn’t fall. I started looking for a way to the island. I found her at the time of her arrest. I was stopped by divorce and forced health leave.

The way to the island paved the way for me to have the right questions. Because when the right question is asked, even if you answer “I don’t know,”it stays and comes back until you find a complete, clear answer. I have answered many important questions. The answers led me to my “island”. Since then, I have always had my island, no matter where my legs take me, I will ride a bike, sail a sailboat or fly by plane. Most often I feel its smell when I sit down to write.

Today I write looking at the green palm trees of one of the islands of Macau. I planned to be here only 2 months, but life gave me a wonderful surprise – the so-called coronavirus effect. My effect. Stop on this patch of paradise. With an emerald wave of the ocean, sunny smiles of people and the hope of freeing up time. I am in no hurry to open borders, to resume flights, although I know that when this happens, I will still have my island regardless of whether I am here or somewhere there.

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