by Prem Geetesha:
The mystic.
I went out to smoke, I sat on the bench, and then a drunk man came out of the entrance, with vodka in one hand, cigarettes in the other. Night and dark. He runs a pack of cigarettes, mockes, bends behind it and sees me. He raises his face to my close and asks:
You are who?
and I? I am nobody.
How is? Absolutely no one?
Absolutely no one. I am not here at all.
I said, I got up and left. I look around, I see, the guy still looks at the place where I just sat, blinking and saying:
I imagined something.
This is a mystical experience.