I Will Not Give Up On You.
Mr Tarady spoke last night to me again. His hand outstretched, bent in the angles I least fond of, but I held it anyway. He led me pass the streets that used to jostle with abundent laughter and happiness, where love poured out over one another like torrential rains. Those were the days set naive. The pavement now was desolate. The only light came from a tiny streetlamp at the junction some 500 metres ahead. There was no one, not even a cat or a mouse.
"Look what you see here tonight," Mr Tarady lowered his eyes and looked at me. His face was crinkled and his skin creases around his eyes. This was how he looked when he smiled.
"Nothing," I replied honestly.
"This," He started, "used to be a marketplace so filled with women and children and men shouting over and over, you could hardly hear yourself. Are you sure you see nothing?"
He chuckled. And I gave him one tired, curious glance.
"What you see, is an empty street. Where the foundation has already been built. And right now, the people have left and deserted it. But what it remains still stands there.. it's still a road, still a place to stay, still sturdy ground for people to walk.."
"It's useless without anyone here. It's just a deserted ol' ghost town. People move for better places, for better living standards. Who wants to live in an old and worn street when there are big cities with their flashing neon lights and nightly masquerades? No one I know of."
He knows I'm stubborn and cynical. But he released our grasp and hugged me tight, and we stood there gazing at the empty road for the longest moment. He makes me feel stupid sometimes. Like as if a child in his wise presence, where everything I say sounds more of a humourous answer. But I don't want to give in.
"What do you think Mr Tarady?" I added on much later.
"I think.... I'm looking at an empty canvas. And I'm going to give it a chance. I'm buying it down." He let go of me and stepped into the empty parade square, "I'm going to try," and that was all he mumbled. He stayed silent for a very long time, as if pondering about something.
"Try to what?"
"To make this the most beautiful place in the world. To a place where people can forget their troubles and live happy lives. And the streets will be filled again with the children of those who left it in the first place. Flowers, balloons, and old men with their walking sticks, young women with their dainty umbrellas. It will be what it was again,"***
"I will not give up on you, even when you have given up on yourself,"
goodnight.