51
" The Friend of Your Youth is the only friend you will ever have, for he does not really see you. He sees in his mind a face that does not exist anymore, speaks a name – Spike, Bud, Snip, Red, Rusty, Jack, Dave – which belongs to that now nonexistent face but which by some inane doddering confusion of the universe is for the moment attached to a not happily met and boring stranger. But he humors the drooling doddering confusion of the universe and continues to address politely that dull stranger by the name which properly belongs to the boy face and to the time when the boy voice called thinly across the late afternoon water or murmured by a campfire at night or in the middle of a crowded street said, “Gee, listen to this–’On Wenlock Edge the wood’s in trouble; His forest fleece the Wrekin heaves–’” The Friend of Your Youth is your friend because he does not see you anymore.
And perhaps he never saw you. What he saw was simply part of the furniture of the wonderful opening world. Friendship was something he suddenly discovered and had to give away as a recognition of and payment for the breathlessly opening world which momently divulged itself like a moonflower. It didn’t matter a damn to whom he gave it, for the fact of giving was what mattered, and if you happened to be handy you were automatically endowed with all the appropriate attributes of a friend and forever after your reality is irrelevant. The Friend of Your Youth is the only friend you will ever have, for he hasn’t the slightest concern with calculating his interest or your virtue. He doesn’t give a damn, for the moment, about Getting Ahead or Needs Must Admiring the Best, the two official criteria in adult friendships, and when the boring stranger appears, he puts out his hand and smiles (not really seeing your face) and speaks your name (which doesn’t really belong to your face), saying, “Well, Jack, damned glad you came, come on in, boy! "
― Robert Penn Warren , All the King's Men
55
" What does
this F. — I.W. mean?”
“Initial-slang,” informed Baines. “Made correct
by common usage. It has become a worldwide
motto. You’ll see it all over the place if you haven’t
noticed it already.”
“I have seen it here and there but attached no importance
to it and thought nothing more about it. I
remember now that it was inscribed in several places
including Seth’s and the fire depot.”
“It was on the sides of that bus we couldn’t
empty,” put in Gleed. “It didn’t mean anything to
me.”
“It means plenty,” said Jeff. “Freedom — I
Won’t!”
“That kills me,” Gleed responded. “I’m stone
dead already. I’ve dropped in my tracks.” He
watched Harrison thoughtfully pocketing the plaque.
“A piece of abracadabra. What a weapon!”
“Ignorance is bliss,” asserted Baines, strangely
sure of himself. “Especially when you don’t know
that what you’re playing with is the safety catch of
something that goes bang.”
“All right,” challenged Gleed, taking him up on
that. “Tell us how it works.”
“I won’t.” Baines’ grin reappeared. He seemed to
be highly satisfied about something.
“That’s a fat lot of help.” Gleed felt let down, especially
over that momentary hoped-for reward.
“You brag and boast about a one-way weapon, toss
across a slip of stuff with three letters on it and then
go dumb. Any folly will do for braggarts and any
braggart can talk through the seat of his pants. How
about backing up your talk?”
“I won’t,” repeated Baines, his grin broader than
ever. He gave the onlooking Harrison a fat, significant
wink.
It made something spark vividly within Harrison’s
mind. His jaw dropped, he dragged the plaque from
his pocket and stared at it as if seeing it for the first
time.
“Give it back to me,” requested Baines, watching
him.
Replacing it in his pocket, Harrison said very
firmly, “I won’t.”
Baines chuckled.
“Some people catch on quicker than others. "
― Eric Frank Russell , . . . And Then There Were None
56
" Maybe we're just falling stars, we once danced in the same skyline looking down at the world. And we've fallen like all others, from near and far, we've gathered together, but separated by time and space, keeping a part of that light that we've came with and spreading it in this dark world that we've chosen to live in, in order to shine some light and love around. Maybe we've chosen to believe one truth today, and find it to be false tomorrow. Maybe we're trying to not get attached to the idea that we now know it all. At night, we see the truth of where we've fallen from, gazing in that night sky full of distant stars, constellations, planets, the reflection of the sun on the moon, all with their own stories to tell. Sometimes we wonder why would we leave such a mysterious place, with an infinite amount of stories and wonders. Maybe it's because as stars we could've only seen each other's light from afar, but here we can listen more carefully to each other's story, embrace each other and kiss, discover more and more of what can be seen when infinite star dust potential is put into one body and given freedom to walk the Earth and wander, love and enjoy every moment until coming back. Maybe in the morning, we'll only see one star shining up there and forget the others. Maybe that is also how life and death is, and the beauty of the sunrise and sunset that come in between, our childhood years and old years, when we reflect on the stars that we once were and that we will once again be. Maybe, just maybe. "
― Virgil Kalyana Mittata Iordache
