Believes come and go, or should I say, go.
From stating my anarchic (and afterwards communist) view on the world by spontaneous theatrical performances to rereading Marx there’s only been five years and a lot of thinking in between.
I must have thought that it was as easy to avoid as it was to challenge any member of my family, but apparently the need to “go against” wears out. Being an anarchist felt like an appropiate way out of every rule surrounding me, but at the same time it felt morally right but physically wrong. And so it does now.It was fun, we were not compromising anyone’s freedom and it felt like the right thing to do. BUT, the day S came and everything started changing.
Life as a happy teenager from a rebellious secondary school was all games and individual thinking, till one day one member of my family provided the key to the next stage of my life: Shoes. As superfluous as it is, I thought of myself, my future and for how long one could play to be part of a movement impossible in principle.
I was suspiciously taken to a “S” shop, thing that I would have died to hide from any person slightly related to me in any way, which now is rather funny. My brown mountain boots and green laces besmirched the posh lady’s floor. I also was wearing white sport-like socks, and was unable to understand at the moment how, or, why anyone would wear something with no socks…
Today this development/incident came into my mind as I heard myself mumbling in the solitude of the lift: Now I’m a respectable member of society. And that scared me terribly! Funnily enough my theory that there is someone out there listening to conversations in lifts was finally proved! Hours after remembering this embarrassing moment of my life I was given The Communist Manifesto and was told to discuss it with the class.
TO BE CONTINUED…
