The excess supply is causing a movement of deserters in the decision-making field. It can't be done anymore. There are people in radical retreat. You decide everything, a colleague with whom I am preparing a work trip tells me. He abandons me in front of five airline companies, four train companies, more than 500 hotels, thousands of restaurants, with all their combinations. Then there is the problem of leisure. People on the run who, in addition to competing every day even with their shadow, have to have a good time because it is idiotic not to do so while having an infinite variety of fun and pleasures. Enjoy it, haggard waiters tell you when they serve you a bun. Either you enjoy it or you're useless.
The woman with the headscarf, at the supermarket door, doesn't decide anything. One day she drops him a banana, another four coins. Although there are almost no coins anymore. The woman in the scarf could bite my Visa, rightly so. Instead, she smiles. Sometimes I give him apples. She might give her apples so she can eat something healthy. I don't know what I think about this idea. Not even what I feel. I give it to them, I continue my path and I prefer not to know what I feel.
Four of us want to go to dinner after a concert. We have listened to Beethoven's Ninth thoroughly. Paralyzed at a traffic light, neither of them wants to decide the restaurant. General leave. The anthem of joy resounding in the head. You can have dinner right across the street, although it seems expensive, or at a recommended one, but you have to walk a long way, or at another one just a taxi away and there may be traffic jams. The traffic light turns green and we don't move forward. A man asks us for coins or food. Once again the problem of coins, misery does not adapt to the dataphone. I remember the banana I carry in my bag and offer it to him. The man takes another banana out of his pocket and shows it to me. They are two bananas so similar that they could be the same. No more bananas, please, everyone gives me bananas, I can't take it anymore, he says. And he leaves. I chase him with a cookie that I also find in my bag, I think he takes it so I can leave him alone. Too many things in the big city.
At the concert, however, everything was going smoothly. The world was in the hands of the conductor. The meaning of those 60 minutes of our lives was decided by Beethoven, note by note, 200 years ago. Thank you, beloved. But now what.
