One thousand years has passed but he looks just the same. He's back.
I was selling my drawings on the road when he came to me.
He was wearing just some worn out socks, a pair of shorts and a simple t shirt.
Usually people pass by in front of my display of drawings, most of them run so fast that they don't even notice me, some other are just scared to look at me, scared that I can try to sell them something.
But not him, he was looking at everything, every flower, every animal, every cloud in the sky. His way of looking was different: I can tell because I spend my day watching people. Daydreamers look around, but they usually don't really look, they are lost in their world. Instead he was very absorbed from what he was seeing, an humble bug or a majestic sunset.
He talked to me about colors and emotions. The spirituality of the blue, the color of the sky, and the happiness of the orange. The voice of God was speaking in him, like a radio in his head. He told me that all the color we see, from black to white are just a little part of the colors of the nature. He smiled to me and to the whole world: “I'm better now”. I didn't understand what he meant, for me he was so great already. But maybe even a saint has his process of growing.
With a mild gesture of the hand he said goodbye to me and he walked away. “I have a radio in my head that never stops to speak” he smiled to me.
I saw him on the distance speaking to a group of ducks, his hair were burning in the sunset light. He was beautiful but nobody noticed him. San Francis is back but people can't recognize him because they have been told that people like him has mental problems or is just a freak or an hippie. They saw already too many people like him, dressed poorly with shining eyes, but they think that they use drugs. For those people nowadays God don't speak to us anymore, now we have the TV.
