Sometimes I wonder about how hard it seems to get in touch with people. I'm not talking about friends or relatives now, but strangers, passing us by every day.
I live in Antwerp, as you all know. My place is close to the underground, and whenever I'm home I ride the metro almost every day. One of the platforms is very deep, with a long moving staircase down. It's a chilly, nihilistic place full of graffiti and decorated with occasional piles of puke. It was at this melancholic place I first saw 'the beatnik'.
Mr Beatnik was in very bad shape that morning. He was standing up, at the stairs next to the moving staircase. He seemed to be asleep while standing. I asked him if he was okay, and he replied he was fine. I've seen him several times after that first encouter. His favourite place to sit is said stairs. After a few times I noticed he had a leg prothesis. Sometimes he's singing and sometimes he's sleeping. One time he was on the same metro as me, and he was talking to other travelers, in English, with visible joy and enthousiasm.
He always sits down and he never looks up or seems to care when children make fun of him. All remarks and comments people make seem to glide of off him like water. What intrigues me the most about him, is that he is always reading an old, wrinkled book. That's where the metaphorical wall comes into play: ever since I've seen him reading, I've been dying to know which book it is. It must have significant value for him, because it's always the same book and it doesn't look like he has any other possessions.
Last week, I took the moving staircase and he was sitting at his spot. When I crossed him, I decided that this was the day, this time I'll ask him, this moment, I'll know. But I couldn't. I already opened my mouth to pop the question, but the words went dry on my lips, I just couldn't do it.
Why? I wondered about this question for some time. First, I blamed in on the language: I heard him speak English once, so I was in doubt, should I speak in Dutch or English? But this excuse is way too easy. Truth is, I find it hard to reach out to people. I rather not answer the question. Because reaching out to someone requires not only interest, but also strenght. Because people could just block us off. Because maybe, people won't be happy with the interest you give them.
What does this learn me? Simple. I have a lot of ideals and a lot of ideas I find valuable, but acting according to those values, is not as easy as it seems.
I'll keep you updated on this.
Sabetha
pissedofpenguin@gmail.com
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