The bus is empty and stranded in the middle of the street.
The lights inside are still on and I can see through the windows all those people shopping for the upcoming holidays, in the abundantly lit Lidl. We are worlds apart.
It is early evening in a lukewarm dark December day. We are in Prague.
The bus driver is spread on the street, his legs are wide apart, just like the arms.
His hairy stomach is moving up and down as they are first aiding him. Someone is pushing hard on this chest so that his heart might get the idea and start filtering and pumping blood again.
That is why his stomach is jumping up and down.
A man coming from where the ambulance is, is holding an IV stand by the neck. There is a bag, containing a transparent substance I can see through, hanging on it and the transparent artificial vein is now going to be injected into this man.
There is already a line of cars and a new bus, the same number and the same route, waiting for the man to do his thing and make space for the flow to flow, for the living to walk and live until the moment comes, the moment to break the circuit.
As I am standing there I am thinking about all the days I lived far away from the center, my center. I was somewhere in Shanghai, in Seoul or on a street somewhere in Paris or China maybe and I was looking for myself. I was looking all around for that feeling of being at home or in the right place.
Strange, I feel that now, on this street where a man is dying over there.
I am here praying for his soul, thinking that tomorrow is Christmas and his family will forever remember this one. Me too.
This is the first Christmas when I feel home within myself. I can die now.
If the deep pain of being misplaced I felt and have been a witness to, the loneliness, the poverty of spirit I walked though had a meaning, than I feel this is it - I can see it right there is a capsule of irrecoverable and irreversible time when life is transforming and becoming death into life, life into …