The Source Of Light
Wisdom is taught by experience.
Experience is the teacher, experienced. Alone.
I stood by the stove, scraping the pan de-glazed with splash of Barbera wine we had shared earlier. The drippings sizzled like two unexpected elements, mutually exclusive clashing together in a malevolent storm.
"Why do people hate Trump," he asked. Scrolling his phone, reading political memes, blurting phone-to-text comments, replying like bird droppings ... which made me think of a poster I had seen in Jimmy John’s sub shop, “Sometimes you’re the bird and sometimes you’re the statue.” In another town, another era.
I looked at him, he seemed unreachable. Who was this man sitting in my kitchen. I didn’t know how to explain the difference between ignorance and stupidity without falling in the entrapment of insensitivity.
The term drowned in the murky language of obscurity, mutually inclusive, yet; rejected by the mass, deduced by chauvinistic altruism.
Instead, I told him the theory of light by Abu Ali Hasan: The light moves from object to the iris in straight line. Staring at sun’s rays burns, causing pain traveling in rather than reflecting out.
He continued looking at his phone screen mesmerized by the blue light, by the time he realized. It was already too dark.
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