To the river

We were tired that day at the river. You framed the last ray of the sun at sunset and I looked at you while you took the picture. A world made of injustices closed a new day and we were there to hope for a better tomorrow. How much progress we made together ... How much love to resist barbarism ... Sadomasochistic relationships triumphed everywhere, we had to defend ourselves with our balance and awareness of our good selves. We did not expect that everything would collapse. Common living was violent. The thoughts of the people were dissent. Otherness devastated. There was nothing left standing. The path of the destructive a triumphal march. You smiled at me at the river. We were really tired of enduring a world facing devastation. There was no trace of hope. The normals had taken possession of every clod. We had nothing left but our little living space which we had to protect from any attack, especially friendly fire, which was the worst. Radio Tirana was broadcasting "Hey You" by Pink Floyd. We were left with the memories of a healthy world. Psychosis was rampant. It was all right now, even crushing a human being like a cockroach. We didn't believe our eyes. Violent words cut off our ears. The atmosphere was deadly. Despite this, you continued to take pictures at sunset on the river, because you never stopped believing in humanity and its redemption. I was proud of you, that evening at the river, because you never yielded to the diktats of the regime and you never ceased to hope that one day we could all be free from evil and serene.